


Stone Heart

by Lepa93



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-23 13:19:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 52,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/622605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lepa93/pseuds/Lepa93
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the statue of the angel Castiel is brought to life, things begin to go awry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Written During NaNoWriMo 2012.  
> Written mostly for a dear friend of mine, mylifewasamazinguntiliwasborn on tumblr.  
> I pretty much had no plan when I begun writing this. I only had the beginning, ending and the main idea ready. I kinda started writing this on a whim...  
> If you find any mistakes on spelling, grammar, punctuation, etc, please point them out! Criticism is more than welcome. If you hate it, please tell what you didn't like so I can improve my writing and everything :) And if you make it to the end without gagging, congratulations and thank you.
> 
> Also, the warning doesn't quite apply. The violence isn't really too graphic, and also the sex later on isn't exactly too graphic either. I would rather over warn then not warn at all.
> 
> Also on my Fanfiction.net account: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8914092/1/Stone-Heart

A dark kettle boiled over red-hot coals. A stuffy steam rose from the brass pot, circling around the small gloomy room, devoid of light except for the slightly reddish glow emitting from the coals. A woman was mixing something in a mortar, adding herbs and suspicious looking ingredients in it, in the corner of the small room. Another herb was thrown into the mortar, the woman crushing it vigorously, spilling some of it's contents onto the table. Cackling, she moved over to the kettle and threw in the contents of the mortar. The kettle exploded with a puff of black smoke that smelled like sulphur, the smell so overpowering it would make almost anyone throw up in disgust. Once the smoke had mostly cleared, the woman standing over the kettle stirred the smelly mixture, throwing in one more ingredient, which looked alarmingly like a cat skull. She reached for a long knife from the table, grabbed it and quickly sliced it into her arm, allowing the blood to flow down into the kettle. 

”Come alive, come alive, blink your eyes, turn from stone to flesh. Raise up, raise up, serve your master, raise some hell a fresh.” The woman spoke almost inaudibly in a language long since lost to the humans of her time. She repeated her chant, faster this time, sucking in faster and shallower breaths than before. Something stirred in the oddly colored mixture: the smoke started changing color, from a pure black to a deep amethyst blue. The coals underneath the kettle caught fire, the flame blazing strong and high, illuminating the room with a yellowish glow. The smoke started moving, forming into a ball before shooting out of the small chimney decorating the tiny room. The woman watched as the ball of blue smoke disappeared, her maniacal laughing reverberating off the walls, echoing long after she had stopped.

The smoke traveled far, finding its way into a small cemetery. The smoke found its intended target: it zoomed towards a statue of a male angel. The statue's long feathery wings were sorrowfully wrapped around its nude body, its head angled to face down towards the simple tombstone sitting on the right side of the statue. The statue's eyes were half closed, its hair messy but short. The smoke approached the angel, encasing it in its dark glow once it got close enough. The statue shook when it absorbed the smoke, turning blue for a moment when suddenly a bright white light exploded from the statue, covering the entire graveyard, blinding any passer-by unfortunate enough to witness it.

The light disappeared from around the statue as fast as it had appeared. The statue's surroundings were filled with an eerie silence. Left standing in the statue's place was a man, completely nude, brown hair shooting off in every possible direction atop his head. The man stirred, unwrapping his wings from around himself, allowing them to stretch to their full capacity. He let his hands fall to his sides, straightening his posture so he was standing up at full height.

He opened his eyes.


	2. Chapter 1

There's an old legend in this town. This legend tells of a fallen angel. An angel who once played God, nearly bringing down the entire world, who was struck down for his insolence. God froze him to stone and forced him to guard over the souls of this small town. They say he can see everything and hear everything that happens in this in-the-middle-of-no-where-town. Rumors say if the angel is revived, he will bring the apocalypse upon the Earth and destroy all life in existence, but while he remains in stone, he will protect the town from harm. The angels statue resides in the town cemetery, where it has been since before anyone can remember, watching over everyone from there.

”Remember Dean, angels are watching over you.” Mary whispered as she tucked in the rosy cheeked toddler. She smiled fondly and turned to face John, who gently placed his hands on her pregnant belly and kissed the top of Mary's nose. Neither could have been happier, another baby was on it's way, John had a well earning job as an engineer, they had a nice house in a quiet and calm neighborhood. Neither was suspecting that in around eight months a house fire would leave Dean and his younger brother Sam without a mother and John without a wife.

 

”Hey Jude” is playing from the stereo's on the black Impala '67 speeding down the small asphalt road. The young man sitting in the drivers seat is softly humming along to the song. A colorful bouquet of flowers lays on the passenger seat emitting a sweet fragrance in the otherwise fetid car. The ground is covered by a thin layer of snow and the road with a slippery sheet of ice, which nearly causes the car to skid into the ditch on the right. The driver corrects the car with ease and proceeds to drive forwards for a few more minutes. The song has time to change before he reaches a small cemetery surrounded by pine trees at the far corners of the town. The man pulls the car to a stop and climbs out of it with the flower bouquet in hand.

”Dean!” The man turns around and pulls his leather jacket tighter around him. A thin, tall man with long wavy hair is running towards him, waving his hand enthusiastically. With a few long steps the man has reached Dean. 

”Morning Sammy.” Dean greets and starts walking beside the man towards the entrance gates to the cemetery. Sammy, or Sam, is Dean's younger brother by nearly four years. He was born exactly six months before the house fire that stole their mother; he can't even remember what she looked like, he's only seen her in pictures. Although the boy is only 17 years old, he is still clearly taller than Dean in height and much smarter: he received a scholarship to a highly respected law school off in another state. Sam would start school the following fall: Dean was very proud.

”Dad's not coming.” Sam states sadly, looking a bit angry when he stuffs his hands in his pockets and shifts his gaze down at the snowy ground. Dean doesn't reply, just looks forward and walks on. Dad, John, was too drunk to leave the house again, he often was after mom, Mary, had passed away. Working and providing for the family had mostly been Dean's job growing up; he often resorted to doing jobs most people refused to do such as taking out the trash, cleaning toilets, cleaning puke off of the bar floor and babysitting the rowdy twins at the neighbors. Dean wants to hate his father for the way they had lived for the past 13 years, but he can't bring himself to despise the man.

The brothers arrive in front of the church overlooking the graveyard. The church, though small in stature, looks expensive and fancy. Dean likes the church, not as a place for prayer, he isn't really that religious, but for it's interior and for how peaceful it was. He likes visiting the church when he needs to think. 

Sam and Dean turn right from the church and head towards the large angel statue standing in the middle of the cemetery. The statues head is cocked sorrowfully down towards their mothers grave. Mary used to tell Dean that angels were watching over him when he was young; Dean smiles fondly at the memories flooding to his head. His mother is probably the reason why he likes the angel statue so much. They had been extremely lucky to get this spot, where the angels gaze was shifted in the very direction of Mary's simple gravestone.

 

”Here lies  
Mary Winchester  
December 5, 1954 – November 2, 1983  
Beloved mother and wife.”

 

Dean crouches down and lays the flowers he brought with him gently in front of the gravestone. Sam joins him down beside the grave, kneeling so his knees touch the cold ground, and they both stay there, looking at the gravestone for a while, deep in thought. Sam is the first to get up. He brushes the snow from his knees and straightens his posture, stretching his hands above his head briefly. Dean follows soon after, looks at the angel and mentally thanks it for looking after his mom's resting place, before heading back to the car.

 

The next time the Winchester brothers visit the graveyard, it is to attend their fathers funeral eight months later. John died in a car accident: a truck crashed into the impala when he and his sons were on a road trip. Sam got away with only a few scratches, Dean spent a few days in a coma but received no lasting injuries, only a barely visible scar on his forehead. John was cremated, the ash scattered in the forests as John had wanted. His name and date of birth and death were added on the same gravestone as Mary's, right underneath the angel statues watchful eye.

 

”Here lie  
Mary Winchester  
December 5, 1954 – November 2, 1983  
and  
John Winchester  
April 22, 1954 - July 19, 2006”

 

The funeral is short. Dean tries to put on a brave face for Sam, tries not to cry, but even he can't stop that single tear falling down his cheek. Pastor Jim places his hand on Dean's shoulder to express his condolences. Sam has a hard time keeping himself together too: his face is glistening with tears once the ceremony is over. Pastor Jim gives Sam a mournful look, whispers how sorry he is for their loss, then heads back inside the church, leaving the two boys and Bobby, the man who practically raised Dean and Sam, beside the grave. Bobby's face is devoid of emotion when he looks down at the gravestone. Dean feels numb, not even the sight of the stone angel, which usually has managed to calm him down, can make him feel any comfort this time. His parents are dead and it's all his fault. He was the one who suggested they take that route on their road trip. He was the one who had accidentally knocked on the stove that caused the house fire. Dean feels he's the one who should have died.

”Well. I'll see ya boys around.” Bobby murmurs, his thick southern accent rolling smoothly off his tongue. ”And Dean, Sam.” He continues: ”Don't do anything stupid.” Bobby waits until the brothers nod before he starts again. ”Take care of yourselves now, you idjits.” With that, Bobby leaves, and heads back to his old, rusty truck. The boys leave soon after. They go back to the small house their dad left for them and head to their shared room. Neither says a word as they prepare for bed, they don't even look at each other. They lay down in a near complete silence, the only sound in the room being Sam's shallow breaths.

Sam doesn't know it, but later that night, when Sam is already asleep, Dean goes back out to the cemetery and sits on the pedestal the angel statue is standing on; just sits there, doing absolutely nothing but thinking about what he was going to do next and Sam's education. Even with the scholarship, Sam will need to pay 15000 dollars each year for his education. John left Sam enough money for a year; Dean needs to provide the money for the remaining three all on his own. Dean can't fathom where he's going to get the money to fund Sam's education, when he's barely making enough right now to buy food. His job at Bobby's garage doesn't make enough for Dean to put any money aside. 

Dean looks up at the statue's face. He let's his eyes run over the defined jawline, up towards the eyes. There's something in the statues eyes, something Dean can't quite explain. That something unexplainable sets a spark in Dean, inspires him somehow. It's as if the Angel statue speaks to him in a way, gives him the push he needs. And so,when Dean returns back home very early in the morning, he is determined to make sure Sam's college is fully paid for, no matter what it takes on his part.

 

A little over a year later, Sam is off in college in another state. Dean is working three different jobs, putting away nearly 500 dollars each month for Sam's education. Were it not for Sam getting near perfect scores in all his exams, it wouldn't be enough to pay for his college at all. Thank God Sam is so smart. Dean works every day, doing 6 hour shifts at each job. He barely has time to sleep or eat and Bobby has to force Dean to take a break from his job at the garage sometimes to make him eat something, usually Bobby's home made bacon-cheeseburgers. 

”Eat, or I'll fire your ass.” 

Halloween night is Dean's only night off for what seems like forever. He takes the free time he has to chat with Sam on the phone. More like arguing then chatting, actually: Sam yelling at Dean to take care of himself better, Dean screaming at Sam to stop worrying about him. His little brother never seemed to know when to let something go. Their conversation ends when Sam informs Dean he won't be able to come visit mom's grave since he has an important exam that day. The idea of going to the cemetery alone for the first time in his life frightens Dean a little.

Dean has work until late in the evening on November second. His last shift is at Bobby's, who lets him go a bit early to go buy flowers for Mary's grave. As Dean is driving down the small asphalt road leading to the cemetery, he is nearly blinded by a bright light coming from the graveyard. He abruptly stops the Impala and shields his eyes from the light. He feels a slight burning sensation as a streak of light passes through him, then as soon as the light appeared, it is gone. The flowers he bought for his mothers grave have been completely incinerated; the only thing left on the passenger seat is a pile of white powder and the molten remains of the plastic wrapping. The ends of Dean's hair are slightly singed and the steering wheel is scolding hot, causing Dean to let go of the wheel in a yelp of pain. He blows on his hands, hoping to avoid burns. Dean blinks and stares at the cemetery in the distance, now completely dark and still, and suddenly feels cold, as if the temperature dropped to 20 degrees below zero without warning. Dean shivers from the icy, breezy air in the car, puts on his gloves and carefully grabs the steering wheel, trying not to burn his hands on it. Everything in the car feels freezing cold all of a sudden, including the steering wheel, which now has a frosty layer of ice covering it. Dean looks at the steering wheel perplexed. His best instincts are telling him to get the hell out of there, but his curiosity gets the better of him.

When the motor shuts down and the car refuses to start up again, Dean resorts to walking to the cemetery. The road is completely encased in ice and some of the nearby trees, now also covered in a thin sheet of ice, are badly damaged, as if a forest fire had passed through. When the young man nears the cemetery, he sees a man with blindingly white wings standing in the middle of the graveyard, in the exact spot where the angel statue is. He starts running, but slips on the ice right before reaching the gates to the cemetery, landing on his side. Dean groans loudly and gets up, massaging his hip. The man is gone when Dean looks again, as is the angel statue. Dean rushes to where the angel statue stood, as quickly as he can without slipping again, and finds only the pedestal where the angel used to be. The surrounding area is white with ash and snow, every tree, plant or living creature now in cinders in a radius of ten meters around the pedestal.

Dean turns around when he hears a scream coming from the direction of the church. He recognizes it as Pastor Jim, and immediately starts making his way towards the church, cautiously but fast. He picks up a thick tree branch on his way and tip toes towards the side entrance of the stone church. The door is ajar, the light from inside the church painting a streak of white on the icy snow. Dean peers inside through the open crack and slowly starts opening the door enough for him to slip through. When he enters the church, he sees Pastor Jim, lying face down behind the sermon table on the ground. He runs to the pastor and turns him around, gasping in shock at the sight. Pastor Jim's eyes have been burned out, a gaping bloody hole left in their place. Dean quickly checks if the man is breathing, but feels no air leave the mans nose or mouth. He moves on to find a pulse, but finds none. Dean fumbles around for his cell phone from his jeans pockets and tries to dial the emergency number, but his cell doesn't find a signal. The man curses under his breath and stands up, only to feel icy cold fingers on his neck. Dean turns around to face a man with dark, nearly black, messy hair, stunningly bright blue eyes and white, feathery wings that are casting an eerie shadow on the walls of the church. The winged man grabs Dean's left shoulder hard, gripping it with enough force to leave a mark. The burning sensation Dean feels in his shoulder at the mans touch causes him to cringe in pain and he shakes the hand on his shoulder away. The last thing Dean sees before passing out is the man before him reaching two fingers to touch his forehead.


	3. Chapter 2

When Dean comes to, he is lying in a dark hospital room. His forehead is bandaged and his head is aching as if someone was pounding on it with a hammer. When Dean tries to move, he immediately starts feeling woozy and nauseous, and he has to fight the urge to throw up. He notices an odd numb feeling in his left shoulder. He lifts the hospital gown's sleeve and notices a burn mark in the shape of a hand print. Dean looks at it with wide eyes then wonders to himself, his mouth moving slightly as he's trying to make sense of things, eyes darting from corner to corner in the dark room. He pulls down his sleeve and lets his head fall back down on the thin hospital pillow, closing his eyes and sighing heavily. The door to Dean's room opens and a young male nurse walks through, carrying a notepad and paper with him.

”How are you feeling?” The nurse asks and flips the light switch, turning on the light. Dean feels as though he is being blinded and tries to shield his eyes from the bright, unwelcome light. ”Oh, sorry about that.” The nurse says and flicks off the light. Dean rubs his forehead in dismay and lets his arm flop down on the bed next to him.

”Fantastic.” Dean lets out a deep groan before continuing: ”except my head feels like someone's hacking at it with an axe.” Dean's voice crescendos towards the end, almost to the point of him yelling. The nurse looks a bit alarmed by Dean's out of nowhere outburst, but then quickly grabs a pack of painkillers from his pockets and sets them down on the bedside table. There's a note attached to the thin package, a prescription with detailed instructions on how to take the medicine. The nurse pays no more attention to the packet of pain medication, instead turning his attention on the chart hanging off the end of Dean's bed.

”Can you tell me what your name is?” Dean looks incredulously at the nurse, opening his mouth as if to say something, before closing it, deciding silence is his best option right now. ”Well?” The nurse demanded, looking adamant.

”It's Dean. Dean Winchester.”

”Good. Now, can you tell me where you are, Mr. Winchester?” 

”The hospital.” The nurse, or Mr. Turnsdale as it reads on his name plate hanging off his nurse's tops right-side pocket, smiles, scribbles something down in the chart, replaces it where it used to hang and heads towards the door. He shouts something to the receptionist at the reception desk on the opposite side of Dean's room. A moment later a familiar face in a raggedy southern-style suit steps in, waving a joyous greeting to the man lying in the hospital bed. 

”Mornin' Dean.” Bobby takes a seat on the stool next to Dean's bed. ”How ya feelin', kid?” 

”Just peachy.” Dean rolls his eyes, and attempts to sit up on the bed, his headache suddenly worsening when he does. Bobby has to help lower Dean gently back on the bed due to the nausea that nearly overtakes Dean. Dean presses his eyes closed and massages his aching forehead, groaning in displeasure. 

”Ya have a concussion. You need to stay still for a while.” Dean cracks his eyelids open and gives Bobby a cold stare. Bobby's returning glare makes it more than clear to Dean that he isn't kidding. ”I'm serious, Dean.” 

”How long do you expect me to sit still? I have work to do! I need to get money to make sure Sammy gets his education.” 

”You'll have to stay here at the hospital for tonight. You can return to work in around a week or so.” Nurse Turnsdale cuts in and Dean's face falls. Bobby sees the change in Dean's expression and offers to inform his employers and deliver the paperwork required for a sick leave. While Dean looks a bit more relaxed than before after Bobby's reassurance, he can't help but worry.

”Anyway. What happened to you?” Bobby furrows his eyebrows and looks at the young man expectantly. Dean tries to form what happened into a coherent, sense-making sentence, but how can he explain the passed out when a guy with angel wings touched his forehead?

”I don't know. I was going to visit mom's grave when there was this light.” Dean hesitated before continuing, ”When I got to the graveyard, everything was dead and covered in either ice or snow. The angel statue in the middle of the cemetery was gone, and Pastor Jim was dead.” His memory was a bit hazy after he found Pastor Jim. He remembers the man with the large, white, feathery wings touching his forehead, but he can't remember any details, such as how the man looked. He can remember there was something stammeringly blue, but he can't put his finger on what it was. ”I can't remember anything else.” He lies. Dean knows no one would buy the 'a man touched my forehead and I passed out' story. Bobby ponders Dean's answer, considering whether it makes sense or not. His fingers are leaning against his bearded chin in a loose fist. Before Bobby has the chance to speak out, the nurse interrupts him and tells him visiting hours have ended and he would have to come back tomorrow. Before leaving, Bobby wishes Dean quick recoveries, then exits through the door. The nurse leaves Dean alone soon after, allowing the man to get some much needed sleep.

 

The following day a police officer comes in to question Dean about what happened at the church. Dean tell's him the same he told Bobby: he doesn't remember. The police officer tries asking if Dean knows how Pastor Jim died and how Dean himself passed out, but Dean can't offer the officer anything but I-don't-know's. The officer leaves Dean's hospital room no closer to finding out who killed Pastor Jim and how he died. Later that evening, Dean is released from the hospital with strict orders to take it slowly and a large pack of the same painkillers he was given at the hospital. He also receives a calming salve for the weirdly shaped burn marks on his shoulder. The salve comes with a note detailing it's use: twice daily, apply generous amount directly to burn. It's not like Dean will remember to use that. 

Bobby comes to pick him up in the Impala; Dean had asked him to get it from the side of the road for him; and he's happy to tell Dean his employers are giving him fully payed sick leave. When Dean gets home very late that night, he's more than happy to turn in and go to sleep. He falls asleep quickly even with the massive headache still drilling through his skull.

An abrupt, loud sound wakes Dean up from his slumber. He frantically looks around for the source of the sound, but finds none. He gets out of bed, trying to make as little sound as possible, and ventures into his living room area through the slightly open bedroom door. He can't see anything unusual before he turns the corner into his kitchen, where a cupboard door is wide open and the dishes inside it in pieces on the floor. There is a small trail of blood leading into the dining room on the other side of the kitchen. Dean threads carefully, side stepping the sharp shards on the floor and heads to the small dining room. His shock is eminent on his face when he sees the nude man sitting on one of the dining chairs. The man is trying to pick shards of broken glass out of the bleeding wound on his foot, staining his hands red and causing small slits on his fingers. Some of the blood has even made its way into the man's large, white wings. When the man, or angel, Dean supposes, notices Dean, he yelps, and nearly falls backwards off the small chair. 

”Whoa, whoa, whoa, take it easy man!” Dean grabs the angels hand before he hits his head on the window sill behind him. The angel looks up at Dean, confused and startled when Dean grabs his foot and starts looking at the wound. ”It needs to be disinfected.” Dean notes. ”I'll get some supplies from the bathroom.” He turns around to look at the angel and points at the seat he's sitting on: ”You! You stay here! I'll be right back.” before heading towards the bathroom, tiptoeing across the broken pieces of plates and glasses. 

When Dean returned with bandages, rubbing alcohol and tweezers, the angel was still sitting where Dean had left him, completely still, looking intently in Dean's direction. Dean can finally remember what that blue thing he recalled before he passed out is: the angel-man's eyes. They are a sharp, bright blue color, the same as the mid-day sky, and currently they are staring at Dean innocently. The angels head is slightly cocked to the side, and he looks a bit like a confused puppy in Dean's eyes. 

When Dean starts working on the angels foot, trying to remove the shards of glass embedded in the others foot with the tweezers, the angel flinches, and tries to withdraw his foot from Dean's hold. Dean calms him down with steady hands and a sharp command to stay still. He makes a quick work of removing the shards from the bleeding wound, since, thankfully, most shards were quite large. 

”This is gonna sting a bit, ok?” Dean says and starts wiping the wound with rubbing alcohol. The angel doesn't react with anything more than a low grunt of discomfort at the slight burning the rubbing alcohol creates. When Dean has covered the entire wound with rubbing alcohol, he grabs the bandages and starts wrapping the angel's small foot. Soon enough, the wound is fully cleaned and neatly wrapped. Dean stands up from his crouching position and extends the angel his hand, offering to help him stand as well. The angel hesitantly accepts Dean's offer and wraps his own fingers around Dean's. The angel's hand is small and delicate compared to Dean's and feels oddly cold. When the angel is in standing position, his wings extended so they hit the roof and the walls of the tiny dining room, Dean removes his grip on the others hand. ”You're gonna need some clothes.” Dean mutters. ”Come on.” Dean gestures the angel to follow him, and starts heading to his bedroom, avoiding, once again, from stepping on the broken shards. The angel obeys and follows, jumping across the pile of broken dishes with one graceful leap, landing softly on his uninjured foot. Dean grabs the angel a simple white button up shirt and simple black dress pants. Dean hasn't worn either item in years, since they grew too small for him a long time ago. He hasn't had the heart to throw them away, since they were given to him by Bobby for his high school graduation. ”Here, put these on.” Dean says, throwing the angel the clothes and a pair of boxers. The angel gingerly starts putting on the clothes, pulling on the boxers, then pants. The pants hang loose on the angels lean hips and Dean figures they won't stay up without a belt so he throws the angel a simple black belt. ”That should keep them up.” The angel looks lost as to how he should use the black leather belt.

When the angel finally looks up at Dean's green eyes, bewilderment covering his entire face, Dean starts helping him put on the belt, faltering slightly when the feathers on the angel's wings brush up against his back. 

”What's your name?” Dean asks the angel, eyeing the shirt in the angel's hands, wondering how he was going to be able to put it on with those wings growing out of his back. Dean gets no answer. ”Hey, can you talk?” The angel blinks, opens his mouth slowly, and murmurs:

”Talk...” The angels voice is low and gruff and very quiet. He doesn't seem to grasp the meaning of the word 'talk'. 

”Yeah, talk. Like you did now.” 

”Talk.” The angel repeats, his facial expression shifts to a thoughtful one. He repeats the word carefully a few more times, each time his voice getting louder and more confident. At last, he gives Dean a small smile, like a young child gives his or her mom after learning something new and exciting. Dean is slightly taken aback, and the angel returns to looking at Dean in confusion. 

”Ok, so you don't know how to talk.” Dean thinks out loud, his fingers caressing his chin slowly. His mouth is moving slowly as he's thinking, his eyes looking upwards at nothing in particular. ”Alright, um. Let's see.” Dean points to the angel with his index finger and says: ”You.” then points to himself: ”Me.” He watches as the angel attempts to grasp what he's saying. When the angel points to himself and mutters ”Me?” slowly, and questioningly, Dean applauds him with a small one sided smile and a quiet praise. Dean points at himself again, this time saying his name. The angel thinks for a second, then turns his index finger to point at Dean. 

”Dean.” 

”Yeah, I'm Dean.” Once again, Dean turns to point at the angel. The angel does the same and quietly whispers something Dean can't hear at first. When he asks the angel to repeat it, he finally hears the word the angel was mumbling:

”Castiel.”

After Dean learns the angel's name, Castiel, he starts wondering how to get the shirt on him. Castiel is no help at all; he keeps turning when ever Dean goes behind him to look at the wings. He nearly knocks Dean over on the bedside table when he turns a bit too fast, hitting Dean with his left wing. Dean falls on the floor on his ass instead, his head hitting the side of his soft bed. The angel looks at him apologetically and helps him back on his feet, pulling him up with surprising strength for such a skinny guy. Castiel then takes the shirt from Dean and with a flick of his fingers, the shirt is suddenly on him. Holes have appeared where the angels wings grow out of, otherwise the shirt is intact. Dean looks at Castiel apprehensively, his mind racing back to when he found Pastor Jim lying on the floor of the church, eyes burned out of his skull. He can't help but wonder what else the angel is capable of, especially when he remembers the touch that caused him to pass out. Dean watches warily as the angel buttons up the shirt. Both the pants and the shirt are too large for the slim angel, the loose fit making him look even skinnier than he is. Castiel looks almost comical in the too big clothes.

A bright flash of lightning alerts the angel. He starts eyeing the room suspiciously, gaze shifting from corner to corner. When thunder booms loudly in the angels ears, he quickly vanishes, leaving Dean staring at the spot from where he disappeared with wide eyes. Dean leans back against the wall behind him and sighs loudly, hanging his head down low. 

”What the hell just happened?” He asks no one in particular, then heads to the storage room next to the bathroom to grab a mop and some cleaning supplies. He quickly cleans up the mess on the kitchen floor, taking care to wipe each speck of blood off with a moist rag, then sits down and looks outside. There is no sign of any thunder clouds, no rain, no lightning, not even any clouds. He goes outside and looks at the night sky, littered with bright stars and a near full moon and tries to make sense of the flash of lightning and the sound of thunder from before. He glances at his wrist watch – 3.19 am – and decides he is way too tired and his headache is way too bad for him to be doing any hard thinking right now, so he opts to go back to bed. Dean has a hard time falling asleep. He keeps tossing and turning in his wide, queen sized bed, his mind racing back to the angel and what happened at the church. Dean finally falls back to sleep at around 5 am, only to see odd dreams of blood, chaos and wings.

 

When Dean wakes up it's already late into the afternoon. His nightly encounter with Castiel, the odd man with wings, has worn him out. He lays in bed, staring up at the ceiling in a tired haze. When he finally decides to drag himself out of bed, it's around 2 PM, way later than Dean usually gets up. He rubs his eyes and stretches his arms above his head and yawns loudly. His bedroom is messy, as is his hair. He goes to straighten out the sheets and then tries to slick his hair back, failing miserably. Dean stretches the muscles in his neck and goes to the bathroom and brushes his teeth, gagging when he puts a bit too much toothpaste on his brush, tasting the overwhelming peppermint a bit too strongly. When he's done brushing his teeth, he gurgles water, spits it into the sink and cleans his brush, then undresses himself and steps into the glass paneled shower. He slides the glass door closed and turns on his shower. Dean twists the knob so that warmer water starts pouring down from the round shower head. The burn marks on his shoulder sting under the hot water, and Dean shies away from the shower a while, slowly trying to get the print on his shoulder to get used to the heat. Once the burn stops burning, Dean steps fully underneath the shower. He basks in the warm comfortable feeling, allowing the steam rising from the warm water to fog the glass panels. Dean doesn't see the approaching figure behind the glass before the door is pulled open. Dean is startled and he nearly falls, slipping on the shampooy tiles when the door opens, but he just manages to keep himself steady by gripping the small railing next to the shower. He looks at the intruder in shock and finds himself staring into bright blue eyes.

”Castiel?” Dean gasps. The angel cocks his head and looks at Dean, confusion written all over his gentle, delicate features. Dean nearly laughs: Castiel almost looks like a puppy, but restrains himself, and instead frowns at the angel. ”What the hell are you doing?” Dean takes his tower from the hanger next to the shower stall and swiftly wraps it around his torso, leaving the shower, wet and shivering from the cool air. Castiel backs away, allowing Dean the room to leave the shower stall. He is carefully eyeing the burn mark on Dean's shoulder. The angel gives Dean no response, instead just stares at the half naked man blankly. The angel is slightly alarmed by the anger and frustration Dean is displaying at his sudden appearance, but doesn't understand why. He looks at Dean worriedly, his expression clearly asking what's wrong. ”What are you doing here?” Dean barks. Castiel keeps his mouth shut. ”Right. You can't really talk, can you?” Dean sighs and starts pointing towards the shower. After pointing at the shower stall, he motions to himself, then the bathroom door and Castiel respectively. He finally shakes his head and loudly says 'no', hoping to get the message across. The angel mimics Dean's gestures and whispers the word 'no', trying to understand what Dean was trying to say. It takes him a while, but he finally understand and looks at the towel wrapped man in front of him apologetically. Dean notices this and tries to teach Castiel another word: 'sorry'. He explains what it means, using easy simple words and slow, repetitive motions of his hands. The angel grasps the word easily.

”Sorry.” The angel repeats and walks out the bathroom door, tucking in his wings so he can fit through the narrow door. Dean showers in peace and returns to his bedroom afterwards, drying his hair with another towel, a larger one hanging off his lean, muscular hips. He proceeds to put his clothes on, throwing on a pair of dark loose boxers and long, thick and warm socks. When he turns around to retrieve his shirt from the hanger, he is, once again, face to face with Castiel, the angels face uncomfortably close to his own. Castiel's other arm is slowly creeping towards the burn mark on Dean's shoulder. He's looking at it intently, face and brow tilted in concern.

”Dude!” Dean throws his arms up, palms facing Castiel, ”Personal space!” He says and flails his arms towards the angel in an attempt to get him to retreat back.

”Personal space?” the angel furrows his brow at Dean, once again forcing Dean to explain what he means. Dean tries to express the idea of personal space with his hands, failing badly at it when the angel steps in closer.

”No! Step back! Don't come closer.” Dean orders and steps around the angel to get his shirt, pulling it over his still damp hair. He moves to grab a pair of jeans and a belt form his drawers and gingerly pulls them on, his slightly wet legs making it hard to get them up, especially since the jeans aren't a loose fit. Castiel is still in the room, staring intently at Dean, shifting his gaze towards the hand print, now covered by a t-shirt on the muscular man's shoulder every once in a while. ”Would you stop staring?” Dean begs, tone slightly irritated, while tying his belt on his waist. The angel only repeats what Dean said to him, wondering the sentences meaning. Castiel reaches to touch Dean's left shoulder again, his finger tips touching the soft fabric of the mans t-shirt. Dean flinches away form the touch, the burn still feeling uncomfortable.

”Sorry.” Castiel says, defeated and apologetic and removes his hand, letting it hang relaxed at his side. The taller man sighs in exasperation and rolls his eyes, then grabs his button up, collar shirt and throws it over his shoulder and starts moving towards the small kitchen. The angel hesitantly follows, carefully examining the shiny kitchen floor before stepping on it. ”Don't worry, I cleaned up the shards last night.” Dean reassures, sensing the other's hesitation. After Dean's reassuring, Castiel marches into the kitchen, very trusting of Dean's judgement.

Dean starts preparing himself a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs and fried bacon. He tells Castiel to take a seat in the small dining room while he cooks, the angel obediently following the orders given. Dean spreads the fully cooked, slightly seasoned yellow eggs and crispy bacon bits on two separate plates and takes two pairs of forks and knifes out. He neatly lays them out on the pine dining table, then gets two small glasses and orange juice from the fridge. He sits down opposite of Castiel and starts pouring himself a glass of the thick orange colored juice. Dean asks Castiel if he wants some. Castiel smells the liquid in the carton box before nodding once, allowing Dean to pour a small amount of the stuff into his glass. He warily takes a small sip, deciding he likes it, gulps the rest of it down and starts pouring himself another glass. Dean stuffs his mouth full of scrambled eggs and watches Castiel prodding at his own eggs with a fork with an amused grin on his face.

”Eat.” Dean smiles and Castiel slowly places a small helping of scrambled eggs on the tip of his fork, then moves the fork to his mouth. He moves the eggs around in his mouth, carefully tasting them, before swallowing. The angels face lights up and he takes a quick bite out of his bacon, clearly enjoying it. The two men finish their food in near complete silence, the only sound is the clanging of cutlery on plates and the nearly inaudible crack of crispy bacon being torn in half. When Dean goes to put the dishes into the sink to await being washed later, Castiel stays in the dining room, sitting quietly on the soft chair, looking around at his surroundings. His wings are tucked behind him, softly touching the ceiling. Before Dean has the chance to come back, Castiel hears a loud noise and vanishes with a soft poof. Dean returns to the dining room to find it empty, the angel gone, leaving Dean staring at the now unoccupied seat slightly confused.


	4. Chapter 3

A week passes by with no sign of the angel. Pastor Jim's death is still a mystery to everyone in the town. Some blame his passing on demons, others blame the white burning light that swept through the cemetery that day. The police officers have ruled Dean out as a possible suspect in Pastor Jim's death, finding nothing that could link Dean to the pastors death: no murder weapon, nothing that could gauge a mans eyes out, no DNA evidence, nothing. They are slowly closing the case as a bizarre suicide. 

Dean's shoulder is starting to heal, although the burn marks will most likely leave permanent scars on his skin. He's almost ran out of the burn healing salve and has started to use normal cream instead. The swelling on his shoulder has completely gone down, all that's left now are reddish, slightly protruding hand print shaped scars.

In the meanwhile, the news have been busier then ever, reporting all kinds of odd occurrences, weird deaths, similar to Pastor Jim's, and freak accidents in the passing week and Dean can't help but think the angel has something to do with it. Dean's life is getting back to normal, though, and he has returned to work, no longer feeling dizzy every time he stands up and his head no longer hurting from the slightest movement. Bobby had contacted Sam about Dean's condition while Dean was still in the hospital. One day, Sam called Dean, nearly shouting at him, demanding a full report of what had happened to him and Pastor Jim. Sam was devastated to know Pastor Jim had died. Pastor Jim had sometimes looked after the brothers when their dad was on a work trip; the brothers had both grown quite fond of their local church pastor and his friendly nature. Dean promised his younger brother he'd inform him when the funeral was so he could reserve plane tickets and fly to the service. 

Even with his normal life continuing as if nothing had ever happened, Dean still can't understand what the deal is with the angel. His thoughts linger on the man every night and he sees him everywhere: in his dreams, at his work, at home through the windows, but the man never approaches him. It isn't until one day, two weeks later, when Dean catches Castiel off guard, bumping his front door into the angels wings when he returns from a long day of work.

”Cas?” The angel blinks at the nick name and rapidly backs away from Dean. Dean manages to seize the sleeve of Castiel's shirt before the winged man disappears again. Castiel stops, and turns to look at Dean, eyes pleading Dean to let him go. Dean refuses to let go, he has too many questions to ask the freak of nature with wings: questions he didn't have a chance to ask last time he was face to face with the angel. Partly that is because Castiel couldn't talk then, partly it was because of the angels sudden vanishing. ”Cas, I need you to explain something to me.” Castiel stops trying to pry Dean's fingers off his sleeve and halts to look directly into Dean's bright green eyes.

”What is it you want to know, Dean?” The deep growl of the angels voice is surprising for such a small man, though Dean is even more surprised by the fact the angel can now form coherent sentences – where did he learn to talk so well?

”What are you?” is the first question Dean can get out of his mouth. His brow is wrinkled, his lips pursed together, his head more or less angled to the left. Castiel ponders Dean's question, then with realization, looks down sadly when he has no answer. ”Ok, then tell me this. What are you doing at my house?” The angel is trying hard to come up with a good reason for his visit. ”Come on, spit it out!” Dean, impatient as ever, shouts out, startling the angel. 

”I was trying to get away.” 

”From what?” Dean can't help the hint of worry in his voice.

”Those who awakened me.” 

”Why?” Castiel refuses to answer, instead he turns around and shows Dean his back: his magnificent, huge wings are covered in bright red wounds, some still bleeding, most starting to scar already. Dean's eyes widen in shock, his hand reaching out to touch the fragile feathers, but Castiel shies away from the touch, tucking his wings in behind him and turning around before Dean has the chance to touch them. The angel has some wounds on his face as well, small ones Dean didn't notice before. A few red blotches also decorate the shirt Dean gave to Castiel. ”What the hell did they do to you?” Dean shouts, his yell reverberating off the walls, anger coloring his tone of voice. Castiel clenched his fingers into tight fists, his whole frame stiffening and his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip, nearly drawing blood when he bites down. Dean rushes into the bathroom to get his medical kit from under the sink, and when he returns, he demands Castiel to remove the shirt so he can address the angels wounds. The angel removes the button up shirt with a sharp snap of his fingers. The shirt now lies on the floor in a crumbled, red and white heap. Dean sees even more cuts and wounds on the angels lean stomach, and quickly starts swabbing them with a cotton pad doused in rubbing alcohol. Castiel relaxes under Dean's gentle touch and calmly allows him to address his wounds. Once Dean is done disinfecting and bandaging Castiel's front, he moves on to the wings and his back. The angel reluctantly allows Dean to tend to his sore wings, tensing each time Dean's fingers brush against the sensitive feathers.

”Did you kill Pastor Jim?” Dean pries all of a sudden, his voice steady and monotone.  
”I...” Castiel pauses. ”He was the man at the church?”

”Yeah. You burned his eyes out.” Dean spits out, spite evident in his speech.

”I'm sorry. I did not mean to.” The sincerity in the angels voice catches Dean off guard. ”I had no control over my powers at that point.” Dean finishes bandaging the angels wings. Castiel flicks the shirt back on, completely cleaned, perfectly white, with another quick snap of his fingers and proceeds. ”I only approached him while my body was still glowing from being brought to life and somehow his eyes started burning. It was not a deliberate act on my part.” 

”Ok, then what did you do to me? Did you know what was going to happen when you touched my head?” Dean starts packing the medical supplies back into the medical kit, carefully wrapping excess bandages into a neat roll. 

”No.” Castiel replied. 

”Then why did you do it?”

”I don't know. Instinct.” Came the angels brief response. Dean nods, finishes packing the supplies and starts heading back to the bathroom to put them back where they belong underneath the white sink. Castiel follows him into the bathroom, his wings bumping against the door frame, causing Castiel to wince in pain. Dean barks at him to be careful, for both his own sake and the sake of Dean's furniture. The large wings are hard to control though, and it doesn't take long until Castiel manages to knock Dean's table lamp on the floor, breaking it into a million pieces before the television set. When Castiel turns around to inspect where the shattering noise comes from, he tips over the large flower pot on the window sill. Dean groans in annoyance, gets the floor brush from the small closet and hands it over to Castiel.

”Brush the shards over here, then put them in that trash can using the dustpan and I'll start cleaning the soil off the carpet.” Dean delegates, pointing at the trash can and the dustpan lying next to it on the floor, before heading off to get more cleaning supplies. 

Once the floor is cleaned of both shards and soil, and the rest of the lamp has been deposited in the trash, Dean lounges down on the couch, exhaling heavily. Castiel remains standing, not moving an inch from next to the trash can. 

”Why'd you leave so suddenly last time?” 

”What?” Castiel turns his head to the side.

”Last time you were here, when you hurt your foot, you left when you heard that thunder. What was that?” Dean demands, expectantly looking in the angels direction.

”My masters were calling me.”

”Your masters?”

”The ones who brought me to life.”

”What did they want with you?”

”They wish to use me in bringing the apocalypse upon this planet.” 

”So, they've been behind the recent accidents and murders?”

”I'm afraid so. They used me to commit those foul deeds.” Castiel looks down at his hands. ”Only recently did I realize what I was doing was wrong.” He looks back up at Dean. ”When they asked me to burn down this neighborhood, I rebelled. I could not do it.”

”What stopped you?” 

”You.” Castiel looked nervously around the room, as if making sure no one was listening in on their conversation. ”You were the first person to show me kindness. Even after what I did at the graveyard. Everyone else I met either ridiculed me or was terrified of me. Even my masters treated me like I was something to be feared.” Dean listened intently to what Castiel was saying, almost forgetting to breathe. ”When I refused to destroy this neighborhood, they tried to force me by using violence. I managed to escape though, but they must be looking for me.” Castiel was starting to relax, leaning on the wall, hands crossed in front of his chest.

”How were they manipulating you in the first place? I mean, you've got those weird powers. You could overpower them or something?” Dean says, his sentence more like a question than a statement.

”They had me under some sort of spell. I was able to break it, I'm not sure how. There are a lot of things I still do not know.” An unexpected boom of thunder snapped Castiel back into his alert mode. The angel was warily staring in the direction of the half open window on the other side of the room. Dean stands up and goes to close the window.

”Calm down, Cas. Come here.” Dean motions Castiel to follow him to the kitchen, which the angel does without objecting. Dean grabs two beers from the fridge, opens them with a bottle opener and hands the other beer to Castiel. "Drink that. It'll relax you. You're too jumpy." Castiel eyes the bottle suspiciously before accepting it, gulping the thin liquid down in one go. Dean looks at Castiel, clear amusement on his face, before drinking his own beer. The angel puts the bottle on the counter next to the kitchen sink and waits for Dean to finish his own. Once Dean finishes, he inquires Castiel whether the angel wants another one. Although Castiel thinks the flavor is a bit odd, he accepts another beer, this time drinking the wheaty liquid in the brown bottle slower. ”Wanna try something different? This stuff always calms me down when I'm nervous.” Dean says, handing Castiel a small glass full of a slightly reddish, thick and smelly liquid. Castiel nods and hastily takes the glass from Dean. ”It's pretty strong though, so be careful.” Dean warns, and gulps down his own shot. Castiel sniffs the foul smelling liquor, then quickly drinks it down. His face twists into a snarl, his taste buds not used to the strong taste.

”It burns.” 

”Alcohol does that. But don't worry. You get used to it.” Says Dean, offering the angel another shot. 

Castiel and Dean spent the next few hours trying different sorts of alcoholic drinks. Castiel finds he quite enjoys the odd flavor of beer and liquor and soon finds himself getting a bit dizzy. 

”Is this normal?” Castiel asked, swaying slightly from side to side.

”Yeah. You're getting drunk. I'm surprised you've held your liquor so well for a first time drinker.” Dean laughs and slaps Castiel on the back. The angel nearly falls over when Dean does so, but laughs it off. Dean has never heard a more attractive laugh in his life, and he's made plenty of women laugh in his life time. That deep, low growl coming from Castiel's mouth is somehow captivating as are his angel like wings. Dean gets the sudden urge to run his fingers through the fluffy white feathers on Castiel's back. He sets down the glass he is holding, takes the one in Castiel's hand and put's it away also, and starts running his fingers gently over Castiel's wings. Castiel flinches away from the touch, yelping loudly at the tickling sensation. 

”Please don't do that. That feels weird.” Castiel remarks.

”Sorry. It's just, your wings.” Dean thinks about what to say next, his eyes running up and down the long white wings. ”Can you actually fly with these?” Castiel answers with a short and sharp yes. ”Awesome.” Dean smiles and stumbles slightly, grabbing Castiel's shoulder for balance. ”Sorry, I think I'm getting a bit too drunk.” 

”It's fine.” Castiel says and helps Dean regain his balance. 

”We should probably stop drinking.” Dean says awkwardly, changing the subject and starts putting the glasses they've used in the dishwasher. A chilling silence fills the room. 

Both men are caught off guard when the front door of Dean's large home suddenly bursts open, and in steps a raggedy looking man and a stylish dark haired woman. Dean accidentally drops the washing tablet in his hands on the floor, cursing loudly. Castiel's eyes widen in shock, and he disappears before the uninvited visitors have a chance to come closer.

”Cas!” Dean shouts after the angel before turning his attention back on the man and woman invading his house. The man is casually strolling towards Dean, making him retreat backwards into the corner, something in the others eyes alarming him. Dean searches around for something to use as a weapon, and finds the frying pan he used for the day's breakfast. He swings it in the direction of the blonde haired stranger, who dodges it with ease. The man encases his fingers around Dean's wrist and twists, making Dean drop the frying pan. The pan hits the floor clanging loudly as it rolls away from Dean's feet. The strange man looks as the frying pan slides further away from them and Dean takes the opportunity to try and kick the man away from him, but the stranger is too fast and blocks the kick before Dean is even close to hitting him.

”Where did the angel go?” The man asks calmly, eyeing Dean carefully. The woman behind him is busy inspecting the spot from where Castiel vanished, her long, dark hair falling over to cover her face so Dean can't see what she looks like. When the strange man punches Dean hard on the side of his face, Dean sees stars. His lip splits and starts bleeding profusely, tainting his green t-shirt with a dark reddish hue and he's sure the blow knocked a tooth loose. ”I'll ask again. Where did the angel go?”

”I don't know.” Dean spits, splattering some blood on his attackers face, and tries to shake the man off of him. The stranger is much stronger physically than Dean is, so he is unable to push him off of himself.

”Hmm. Alright then.” The stranger says and throws Dean towards the wall opposite him. Dean slams roughly against the fridge and slides down to the cold floor, the back of his head and lower back aching from the impact. The stranger kicks him hard in the stomach before finally gesturing the woman to follow him as he heads towards the front exit, slamming the half open door fully open as he leaves. The woman follows close suit, leaving Dean gasping for breath on the floor and wiping blood off his split lip.

 

When Castiel appears in Dean's house the next morning, Dean is still re-cooperating from his last nights exchange, lying in bed, trying, but failing, to fall asleep. It's six in the morning, the sun hasn't even started rising yet, and Dean is restlessly shifting from side to side on his soft mattress. The loud sound Castiel makes when he appears stirs Dean from his uneasy stupor.

”Hello, Dean.” 

”Cas?” Dean replies sleepily, slowly pushing back the warm blanket on top of him, shivering at the cool morning air in his room. He gets up, gingerly straightening out his crumbled up clothes. ”What do you want.” Anger is clear in his voice.

”I came to warn you.” The angel says passively. He sits on the edge of Dean's bed, his large feathery wings resting behind him, tucked in close to each other. Dean walks around the bed, avoiding the wings by crouching below them. He comes face to face with the angel and crosses his arms, expecting an explanation. Castiel refuses to explain himself, only sitting there, staring at Dean straight into his green eyes in the darkness of the room. The angels face is one of worry and concern and Dean is sure he can see a hint of sadness mixed up with the other emotions. Castiel finally sighs, letting out a lengthy exhale, and opens his mouth: ”You need to be careful.” Dean casts Castiel a no-shit kind of look by raising his other eyebrow. ”I don't have time to explain, just please. Listen to what I'm saying.” The winged man pleads, receiving a loud uncaring huff from the man standing in front of him. ”I'm serious Dean.”

”Yeah, whatever.” Dean huffs angrily and rolls his eyes again, turning away from the angel. He is still pissed off about what happened last night. ”You just left. And then I,” Dean highly emphasizes the word 'I', ”get mugged.” He turns around and points to himself, his face twisted up in a furious snarl. ”What the hell, Cas?” Dean yells. ”Who are those guys?” He demands.

”I'm sorry Dean.” Castiel mutters under his breath sadly before vanishing again. Dean is in a foul mood for the rest of the day, and manages to spread his bad mood to almost everyone around him. When he returns home from work late that evening, he furiously kicks his shoes off and heads straight to bed, ignoring his rumbling stomach and aching head.


	5. Chapter 4

The following day, when Castiel appears in front of Dean's house, warning him to leave the town, Dean punches Castiel in the face. Instead of hurting Castiel, Dean hurts his own fist as if he had just punched stone. The angels face only slightly turns from the force of Dean's blow, but the hit leaves no mark, and the angel shows no sign of pain. Dean turns around and attempts to shake off the pain without Castiel noticing, before returning to face the angel. 

”You need to leave this town.” Castiel repeats to Dean, his eyes dark and serious, his voice low and intimidating.

”Why?” 

”They know where you live. They know I've been associating with you, they'll come back.” 

”Let them. I can hold my own against them.” Castiel grabs Dean's shoulders and grips them hard enough to leave finger print shaped bruises. The angel stares right into Dean's green eyes, not blinking once as he speaks.

”You don't understand, Dean. If they think you are hiding me or helping me, they will do everything in their power to extract my whereabouts from you.” Dean shoves Castiel's hands away.

”Who the hell are they anyway?” 

”They are the ones who raised me. They are incredibly strong witches and they are not to be messed with, Dean. Listen to me and leave.” Castiel makes one last ditch effort to get Dean to listen to him, but Dean, being as stubborn as he is, is having none of it. He pushes Castiel away and ignores his plea and is just about to order Castiel to leave when the angel presses two of his fingers on Dean's forehead, making Dean pass out cold on the concrete sidewalk. ”I'm sorry Dean. I have to do this.” Castiel mutters silently as he throws the unconscious man over his shoulder and takes flight, spreading his wings wide and batting them down with tremendous force, shaking the nearby trees. He flies up into the night sky and quickly heads away from the town, leaving the constantly diminishing balls of light behind.

Dean wakes up mid flight and nearly causes both men to fall down from the sky when he starts struggling. 

”Dean calm down!” Castiel orders, gripping Dean's waist tighter with his arm.

”Where the hell are you taking me you son of a bitch? Let me down!” Dean resumes his fight against Castiel's grip and manages to loosen the angels hold on him. When Dean kicks Castiel in the stomach, Castiel lets go, and Dean starts free falling down towards the dark pine woods.

”Dean!” Castiel shoots down and just and just catches Dean before the man hits the top of the green woods. He flies down to the ground and releases Dean. Dean stumbles and falls to the ground on his knees, throwing up in the nearby bushes. When he looks back at the angel, his face is green and sweaty.

”Never do that again.” Dean pants, wiping his mouth with his sleeve before standing up again. He has to support himself up by gripping the large tree branch next to him and pulling himself up to a standing position with his left hand. Once he's up, he feels ill again and he has to try to stop himself from falling down by gripping the tree branch again, his knees still shaky from the flight.

”You're the one who started struggling and you're the one who caused me to lose my grip on you.” Castiel accuses. Dean shoots Castiel a sharp, angry glare.

”I mean the flying you moron!” 

”You weren't supposed to wake up during the flight. I was counting on you being unconscious for at least a few hours. It seems I miscalculated.” 

”Miscalculated? Where the hell were you trying to take me?”

”Away from that town! I told you they would try to kill you if you stayed but you wouldn't listen!” Dean starts backing away from Castiel, whose voice has escalated into a loud yell accompanied by a high pitched whistling sound. Dean has to block his ears when the sound gets too loud, his face is twisted to a grimace from the pain it's causing to his ears. Castiel, immediately after seeing Dean's reaction, closes his mouth and looks at Dean. His eyebrows are twisted into a sad arc, his large blue eyes wide and apologetic. Before Dean has the chance to say a word to the angel, he has disappeared in a soft flutter of wings. 

Dean warily looks around, completely lost as to where he is. He's never been in these woods before, and he has a feeling he is far away from his home and from any roads. His light jacket is too thin to withstand the cold freezing wind screaming through and around the trees, and he's starting to shiver. Dean decides to start moving in the direction with the least trees. He's desperately looking for any land marks he might recognize, any signs of a road or population, but he can't find anything but trees for hours. He can feel his fingers going numb and his breath is visible in the chilly night air. He thinks hard about what he's done to deserve this: the angel appearing, messing up his house, disappearing on and off, bringing those lunatics into his house, and now he's stuck in the middle of nowhere with no directions whatsoever. Dean huffs angrily and continues walking, his way winding through a small path in the forest that he finds. He is beyond relieved when he sights the small cabin, lights still on and smoke coming out of the chimney. Dean makes his way towards the lit cabin, carefully treading the muddy paths. He slowly tip toes to the nearest window and peeks in, but sees nothing. He presses his ear against the thin wooden boards the cabin is made out of and listens in for any voices or sounds. Dean hears nothing. He checks the other three windows lining the walls of the cabin before heading out to the front door. A small streak of light is peeking out from behind the slightly open door, and Dean can hear a fire cackling away inside. He takes a careful step inside.

The inside of the small cabin is completely empty except for the few pieces of furniture decorating its rooms. The small couch is dirty and worn and the tiny ceramic fireplace burning on the other side of the room is gently heating the room. Dean takes a quick look around the corner, peering into the wooden staircase leading down to a basement and proceeds to the main room. He approaches the fireplace carefully, trying not to make a sound as he threads on the squeaky floor boards. Dean looks around for anything he might use as a weapon, highly suspicious of the well lit cabin, seemingly occupied by no one in the middle of a large, otherwise empty pine forest. He finds an iron rod meant for poking the fireplace. It's strong and looks new, and will do well for a weapon. He takes it with him as he heads down the stairs, each step creaking under his feet.

When he nears the end of the steps, he finds a door, from behind which, he hears mumbling. A woman is chanting some sort of spell in some odd, centuries old language. Dean tries to open the door without alerting her, all of his senses screaming at him to leave, but his curiosity winning him over again. When the door's hinges squeak loudly, the dark haired woman stops her chant and turns around to face Dean. Dean isn't completely certain but he thinks the woman is the same one who broke into his house with that blonde man the other day. He tries backing away but the brunette swings her hand to her left and sends Dean flying to the pile of boxes. 

”Hello, Dean.” She struts toward him, her walking pace slow and snake-like.

”Where's your boyfriend?” Dean taunts, leaning on his other arm for support. The woman grabs his chin and pull his face up so that they are looking at each other square in the eye. 

”You think you're funny.” She smirks, and throws Dean backwards, causing the man to hit his head on the sharp table corner behind him. He shouts through gritted teeth, bringing his hand to the back of his head, finding it wet and slick with blood.

”You bitch.” he curses under his breath.

”If I were you, I'd watch what I say.” The woman leans her upper body closer to Dean, pinning him down with her foot. The heel of her shoes digs into Dean's stomach. Dean is trying to glare her down, trying not to show any pain on his face. ”I'm glad you found me. Now, you can tell me where the angel is.” Her dark auburn eyes feel as if they're staring right through Dean into his soul. Dean presses his teeth together and holds his tongue, not letting a single sound escape his throat. ”Talk!” She screams, fury flashing in her eyes.

”Now, now Ruby. Calm down.” A man walks in, the same blonde man who invaded Dean's home with this Ruby woman yesterday. Ruby moves her foot off of Dean and backs away into the shadows out of the man's, who is gradually approaching Dean, way.

”Lucifer, I...” 

”Be quiet Ruby.” Lucifer turns to face Dean, his face twisting into a mean smile. ”Dean, right? You wouldn't happen to know where the angel is?” Dean glares at the man, still refusing to speak. Lucifer grabs a handful of the light brown hair atop Dean's head and yanks his head up. Dean's fingers wrap around Lucifer's wrist and he tries desperately to twist the man's hand to make it let go of his hair. Lucifer looks into Dean's eyes, unblinking and expressionless. ”No.” he whispers. ”You don't know where he is, do you.” he states, hmm's, the corners of his mouth drawing downwards, and releases Dean's hair. Dean slumps to the ground with a shaky breath, stained with pain. Lucifer turns his back on Dean and heads towards Ruby, who has now gone back to finishing her chant from before. ”Finish the spell quickly.” Lucifer orders. ”We'll work on getting Castiel here afterwards.” Even though all Dean can see of Lucifer is his back, he can still see the malign smile forming on the mans face. Dean struggles to get up on his feet. He picks up the iron rod that flew out of his hands when he was thrown against the carton boxes by the dark haired woman, apparently named Ruby, and quickly but silently starts making his way towards the door. Neither Lucifer nor Ruby is paying him any mind, so Dean think's his safe to turn his back, but the second he does, Lucifer's hand is on his shoulder. Dean tenses up, staying still for a fleeting moment before turning around and attempting to swing the rod directly at Lucifer's head. ”Didn't you learn last time that you are too slow?” Lucifer shakes his head when he stops Dean's swing in midair, only inches from his head. The man twist the rod out of Dean's hands and grabs Dean's neck with his free arm. He lifts Dean in the air, the man gasping for air, face twisting into a pained grimace.

”Let him go.” A demanding voice sounds from behind Dean. Castiel appears on the steps and stabs a thin, long silver knife past Dean, scraping the side of Lucifer's cheek and drawing blood. Lucifer free's Dean, who falls on the steps nearly unconscious, desperately rasping for breath with half closed eyes. Castiel advances towards Lucifer, putting himself between the blonde man and Dean. 

”Cas?” Dean asks weakly, his voice raspy and uncertain. Castiel grips Dean's left shoulder tightly, and is about to disappear when Lucifer stops him, by catching a hold of the angel's white shirt.

”It doesn't matter where you go, we will find you. And you will do as I tell you.” He releases his grip and allows Castiel to zap away in a quiet flutter of feathers, taking the half conscious Dean with him. ”Did you finish the spell?” Lucifer turns around and looks at Ruby who is still busy chanting something in front of a table, littered with candles and odd symbols. Ruby finishes chanting, then turns around.

”Yes.” She smiles slyly, and pushes herself up, swinging her dark hair off her shoulders with a quick flick of her head. ”We only need that last ingredient.” She shifts her weight on her right leg and crosses her arms. ”So what is it? The last ingredient?” Lucifer smirks and walks towards Ruby. He looks up and down at Ruby, examining her, nodding to himself and then walking around her. He shuffles in his jeans pockets for something. Lucifer finds his intended object, raises it high above Ruby's head and laughs in a singy-songy voice.

”Blood.” Ruby screams in agony as the long sharp knife digs into her back, severing major arteries and spilling copious amounts of blood on the ground. The blood begins to swirl to form a circle on the floor on top of a chalk drawn symbol. Lucifer withdraws the large knife from Ruby's back, and throws her aside. Her blood pools out of the deep large wound, her body goes slack and her eyes turn glassy. The crimson liquid has soon colored the outlines of the white chalk symbol completely. It starts glowing a faint reddish light and the room suddenly fills with a strong circling wind that blows out the candles, leaving only the red light to illuminate the small room. The herbs and mixtures on the table fly up, carried by the wind and fall into a neat pile on top of the blood encrusted symbol. The room suddenly explodes with a bright red light which nearly blinds Lucifer, who just manages to cover his eyes. When the light subsides, he laughs heartily, the laugh echoing deep into the night.

Castiel sets Dean down on the grassy ground. Dean flops on the soft grass, limp and motionless, his eyes half open. The angel presses his palms against the muscular mans chest and whispers something in an odd language. Dean suddenly snaps awake, his body completely healed of any and all injuries. Castiel stands up and looks off into the distance. Dean stands up as fast as he can, swaying a bit from side to side from the vertigo, then turns Castiel around to face him by twisting his shoulder.

”What the hell, Cas?” He yells when Castiel shoves his arm away. The angel looks down at the ground, his expression shifting from worry to anger to confusion. He tries opening his mouth, but he doesn't get the chance to talk before he abruptly snaps, his eyes turning dark and emotionless. The angel gives one last look at Dean, then pushes him away and snaps his fingers and he disappears. Dean shouts after him.


	6. Chapter 5

After Castiel leaves Dean alone, he returns to the small cabin with Lucifer. He bows down before the blonde man and awaits instructions. Lucifer smiles to himself, then bends over and whispers directions, names and numbers into the dark haired angels ear. Castiel nods, walks up the stairs as if in a trance, and flies off. He bats his wings, causing wind to shake the tops of the pine trees. When he is flying above a large green field, he hears Dean yelling for him, but ignores it and presses on towards the cemetery of the small town Dean lives in where his first target awaits him. Lucifer laughs to himself and with a flick of his wrist, he disappears, the cabin vanishing into thin air along with him.

When Dean finally returns home hours after finding himself in the middle of a large grass field, he gets everything he can find from his house that even remotely resembles a weapon, and hides them in his clothing. Dean has a bad feeling. He is sure something bad is going to happen and he's learned to trust his instincts. The last time he didn't listen to his instincts he had nearly gotten himself killed.

Dean stashes a small pocket knife into his jean pockets, a larger knife he uses for cooking in a sheath into his leather jacket, and a small pistol which his father used to own into a gun holster that is barely visible under the large leather jacket that used to belong to his father as well. Dean picks up his small lighter from next to the candles on the window sill behind his work desk, and stuffs it in his jacket pocket before heading out to his car. He quickly turns the keys in the ignition on his black and shiny '67 Impala, and pulls out of the narrow driveway. He starts driving towards the field where he was dropped off when he spots the angel flying in the direction of the cemetery. He quickly turns his car around, making an illegal u-turn. Dean heads towards the town cemetery, completely disregarding the speed limit and traffic rules. When he pulls up at the cemetery, he strolls in, pulling the large knife out of the hidden pockets inside his leather jacket and heads towards the church. Dean is moving towards the large main entrance doors of the church in a light jog, trying to keep his steps as quiet as he can. When he pushes the doors open, he finds Castiel holding down his neighbors young 13-year old daughter on the altar. The girl, wearing boot legged jeans and a light colored blouse is staring up at the angel, terrified and struggling, her arms flailing around, trying desperately to push off the strong arm pinning her down. The angel is holding a sharp wooden stake with his other hand, right above the screaming girls heart.

”Let her go!” Castiel slowly turns his head to face Dean. Recognition sparks in his eyes for what seems like a millisecond, then they return to their cold emotionless stare from before. ”I said let her go!” Dean runs towards Castiel, his knife already aimed towards Castiel's stomach. Castiel releases his hold on the girl, who immediately scrambles up off the table and runs away from the angel and out of the church. Dean charges and swings the knife down, attempting to hit Castiel's heart, but the angel side-steps the swing. Dean is breathing heavily, his whole frame shaking from anger. His mouth twists into a snarl and he growls. Castiel looks at Dean impassively and without care before taking Dean by surprise by grabbing his jacket and throwing him on the altar. Dean struggles to get away, wildly kicking his feet in the angels direction and twisting the angels arm with his hands. Castiel raises the stake above Dean's heart, still holding the man down with his other hand, and he is just about to strike down when something makes him stop. Something resembling panic fills the angels eyes and Dean takes the angels hesitation as an opportunity to push the angel away and drop his weapon to the ground.

”Dean.” Castiel whispers before disappearing again. 

Dean doesn't see the angel for nearly a month after he disappeared before him in that church. He follows the news closely, though. The amount of freak accidents and strange murders has increased ten fold since that incident, and Dean knows exactly who is behind them. He's been powerless to stop it and he hates himself for it. He hasn't sat around twiddling his thumbs the last three and a half weeks though: he's been preparing himself to face Lucifer. Sam has arrived to help, although he was more than uncertain of everything Dean told him. Sam had a hard time believing the angel statue was murdering people until he witnessed it one day with his own eyes. Sam was walking outside in the night when he came upon Castiel, wings drenched in blood, eyes cold and calculating and an old man coughing up blood beneath him in the dirt. The old man used to be Sam and Dean's friend, and Sam was more than torn up about his death. When Sam returned home and told Dean what had happened, Dean was even more determined than before to stop the angel from causing any more havoc. Dean feels responsible for everything that has happened, finding himself angry at himself for pulling Sam into this. Why Dean feels stopping the angel is solely his responsibility, though, Sam cannot understand and he refuses to allow Dean to do this all on his own.

Dean and Sam start driving around the small town in the impala, looking for any signs of trouble a week after Sam witnesses Castiel murdering the old man. They have dozens of weapons; most of which they have obtained illegally; loaded in the secret area in the trunk: hand guns, rifles, knives, even a sharp sword and a machete. 

When the brothers come upon Castiel one day, crouching low on the ground, covered in blood, they quickly surround him, weapons steady in their hands. When Castiel sees them, he tries to disappear, but the brothers both grab on to his shirt faster than the creature expected. The angel has no weapon with him, but Sam and Dean are still wary. Dean takes a look at Castiel's eyes, and finds them filled with nothing, no emotions, no pain, nothing. It's like he's a walking, talking and flying puppet.

”Cas. Stop this.” Dean begs. Castiel responds with a flinch, his face once again looking like what he did before that day at the cabin, but it returns to the cold, emotionless stare mere seconds later. ”Cas, please.” Dean tries again. The angel moves his hands to grab at both Sam and Dean's jackets and pushes them away with tremendous force. Dean flies against a street light and Sam flies in to a nearby rose bush. The younger brother stands up from the bush, yelping in pain when the thorns press into his skin. Dean gets up, rubbing his lower back, in time to see the angel disappear once again.

The brothers and the angel continue playing cat and mouse for the next month. The accidents and murders expand into the large city to the west and start becoming more violent, larger in stature, and more deadly each time. 

”This isn't working. We're never going to catch him.” Sam whines, throwing his small knife on the floor and slouching down on the soft hotel bed. He agonizes over what their next move should be with Dean, both at a loss for what to do. Dean looks down at his hands, looks at the blood of the person Castiel last murdered. They had been too late to save her, all they could do was hold her and comfort her while she took her last breaths.

”We need to break the spell.”

”Yeah, but how?” Sam screams out, frustration clearly present in his voice. ”We've tried to track down this Lucifer fellow but we can't find him or that Ruby girl anywhere. We have no idea what kind of spell this is, we have no idea how to break it or where to even start, Dean!” 

”I know! I know!” Dean sighs heavily. 

”Why do you feel responsible for stopping him anyway?” Sam shouts. ”I mean, what do you expect us to be able to do against some all powerful supernatural being?” 

”I don't know, Sam. I just...” Dean hesitates. ”Look. All I know is we can't let that son of a bitch destroy the world or kill any more people.” Sam looks at his elder brother and opens his mouth to say something before Dean interrupts him: ”We are the only two people who know what's going on, who's murdering all these people and who's behind all those accidents. If it's not up to us to stop him, then who?” Sam is at a loss for words. He knows Dean has a valid point but he's still doubtful whether or not they should be trying. ”We'll find a way to stop him, I swear.” Dean takes off towards the hotel bathroom. ”I need a shower.” He slams the door shut and leaves Sam alone in the tiny room. Sam rubs his face with his hands, then grabs his laptop from his backpack and with tired hands continues his previous nights research of spells and enchantments with the hotels slow internet.

When Dean comes out of the shower, his hands now clean of the red sticky liquid, Sam has a large pile of notes lining up on the table next to him.

”Ok, so I've actually found a few possibilities as to what the spell could be.”

”Yeah? Did those professors finally answer back to you?”

”Yeah they did. Listen to this: apparently there's an old legend dating back to 5000 b.c. about a being that could destroy the entire world if awakened and controlled. The legend says this being is an angel who nearly destroyed the world while trying to be God, so God cast him down for his insolence and froze the angel to stone.”

”Ok so, what. You're saying Cas is that angel?”

”No, but he could be. Anyway, let me finish. It says, to resurrect the angel, one would need a few extremely rare herbs and plants and the skull of an extremely rare feline species.”

”Why a cat skull?”

”I don't know, it doesn't say.” Sam clears his throat. ”They would also have to chant a really powerful spell in this ancient language, something called 'giragira' or something.”

”Ok, anything else?” 

”No, that's it. Well, I mean there's the incantation right there, but I can't read it. It's written with weird symbols that I've never seen before.” Dean looks closer at the screen and examines the symbols.

”Is there anyone who can read it, or translate it?”

”Well, I emailed back to the professor who told me about the legend. He translated the chant for me, and also sent me the instructions on how to entrap and control the angel and how to break that control. He told me he found all this in an old book some time ago. It could fit.” Dean leans in closer to the screen and waits while Sam digs out the email in question. The email has three pictures attached to it, all of them filled with the same weird writing as the first chant Sam showed Dean. Sam opens each of the three pictures in new windows and re-sizes them so all of the photos and the original email fit on the small laptop screen. He points to the first picture: ”This one is the spell that awakens the angel. It reads 'come alive, come alive, blink your eyes, turn from stone to flesh. Raise up, raise up, serve your master, raise some hell a fresh.'”

”That sounds really stupid.” Dean mutters.

”Yeah, well I'm sure it makes more sense in it's original language. Anyway look at the second picture. This one has two spells, one to control the angel and another to break that control.” Sam reads out the first spell, and then reads the ingredients needed for the spell which are listed in the email, below the translation. One of the ingredients is the blood of the one who resurrected the angel. Dean stares at the screen in shock.

”Oh man. That's sick.” Dean thinks back to the moment Castiel's expression changed in that field. He thinks back to Lucifer and Ruby, wondering which one of them was the one who resurrected Castiel. Which one was the one who was killed that night to enslave Castiel. ”How do you break it then?”

”Well, we'll need the blood of the one who enslaved him and the blood of the angel. Both the angel and the one controlling him have to be within a radius of ten feet from the one who speaks the reversing spell for it to work.”

”Wow, that's not going to be easy.” 

”Nope." Sam sighs and shakes his head. 

”What's the last spell?”

”I have no idea. It hasn't been translated.”

”Ok, so what do you think we should do?” Dean asks.

”We should try to break the control. You said Castiel was nice to you before he suddenly went nuts.”

”Yeah. He told me he didn't want to hurt anyone, that it felt wrong.” Sam twists his face.

”That doesn't sound right. The angel in the legend was vengeful and wanted to destroy the world.”

”Well, maybe Cas isn't that angel.”

”Maybe not. Anyway, I think we should try the reversing spell. It'll be hard, but at least we have a plan, even if this isn't the right spell, we should still try it.” Dean agrees and so the brothers quickly start mapping out the locations where the angel has caused havoc and try to figure out where the angel will strike next. They come up with three possible locations. They decide they need help, so they call Bobby, explain the situation, and beg him to help. Bobby agrees reluctantly, and concurs to driving to the hotel immediately. Bobby reaches the hotel within an hour of the boys call. Dean and Sam distribute their stored weapons between the three of them, Bobby giving both boys a long, cold stare when the firearms emerge from the trunk of the car, and they all head out, each taking one location to watch over. They each have the others cell phone numbers on speed dial in case of an emergency and they're all packing emergency medical supplies as well in case they get hurt.

Once they all reach their perspective locations, Bobby and Sam both taking cars as their locations were further away, they send out text messages letting the others know they're ready. They hide in the shadows and wait. The night starts getting colder, the wind chillier, and their breath starts to fog. Dean is shivering even with his thick leather jacket. There's been no sign of Castiel in the last two hours that they've been scouting the areas. Dean is starting to doubt the angel will ever appear. Dean soon dozes off, only to wake abruptly when the ground starts shaking. 

”What the?!” He snaps, and hastily searches his surroundings. He spots a pair of white wings on top of a small apartment building. Dean looks up at the angel. ”Cas!” He shouts. The angel turns around, his wings spreading to their full length. His gaze finds Dean, who's moved to the middle of the stone courtyard from behind the bushes. ”Come down here you son of a bitch!” Dean taunts. Castiel raises his head and looks down at Dean along the curve of his nose. For a moment Dean thinks he is going to have to go after the angel himself, but then he suddenly appears before him. Dean takes his chance and quickly slashes at Castiel's arm with his small pocket knife. Castiel looks at the wound the knife causes with little interest and barely seems to notice when Dean quickly scoops up a few drops of the blood oozing from the wound into a small test tube. Dean closes the tube with a plastic cork, puts it into his leather jackets inner pockets, and backs away a few steps.

”What are you trying to accomplish?” Castiel asks, his voice monotone and detached. His eyes are dangerously dark, the black bags under his eyes making them look even more terrifying than they already are.

”Cas, snap out of it! Don't let them control you!” Dean knows his attempt to snap the angel out of it is in vain, but he feels the need to try. ”You don't want to do this, you told me so yourself.” Castiel stops and thinks, memories running in his head, something yelling, at him in the depths of his brain, telling him what Dean says is true. The barrier which stops those thoughts from fully emerging cracks slightly, and Dean can see the control Castiel's controller has over him break. Castiel's eye color changes from the dark cold grey to their normal blue. The angel reaches his bleeding arm towards Dean, his face written with agony, despair and fear. Dean takes Castiel's hand, and shakes it slightly. ”You have to break their control, Cas!” He yells when Castiel flinches and brings his other hand on his head.

”I can't!” Castiel brings both hands to the side of his head and falls to the ground on his knees. His head feels like it's about to burst open, he feels like he is fighting for control over his own body. Dean crouches down low and brings his hands to rest on Castiel's shoulders.

”Yes you can! Fight it!” Castiel screams in pain, as his slaver fights to regain control. ”Who's controlling you right now?” Dean questions, hoping the angel could answer, in case he fails to keep control and Dean, Sam and Bobby need to go collect blood from the angels controller. ”Please, Cas!” 

”Lucifer!” Castiel groans under his breath. He falls to the ground on all fours, panting for breath and struggling to keep his control, the headache building up threatening to knock him out.

”Where is he?” 

”At... At the church!” Castiel manages to scream out before loosing control and falling prey to his puppeteers whim again. The angel throws his head back; his eyes shine a clear blue before turning back to their emotionless gray. Dean starts backing away, knife ready in a defensive stance in front of his chest. Castiel straightens himself up from the ground, and with a quick look, heals the wound Dean inflicted on his arm before. The angel glances at Dean briefly before charging towards him, wings fully extended behind him, and a long, round silver knife in his hands. Dean dodges the first blow by cowering behind the massive tree sitting on the side of the large courtyard. The angel returns for a second attack, this time knocking Dean on the ground right on his left elbow. Dean, ignoring the pain in his arm, rolls back on his feet and positions the knife to shield his chest again. He tries to find the angel, but he's disappeared. Dean's eyes run around wildly looking for any sign of white wings, but sees none. He heads to the middle of the courtyard once again and frantically searches for the angel, spotting him just beyond the thick concrete wall to the far right side of the building. Dean starts running towards Castiel, his weapon in hand ready to strike. When he gets close enough, Castiel vanishes again, this time reappearing behind Dean. Castiel stabs his knife into Dean's side, causing the slightly taller man to collapse on the ground, hand holding the bleeding stab wound. Castiel takes flight and evaporates into the night sky.

Dean digs his pockets for his cell phone and quickly dials Sam.

”Sam, I found him. I got the blood.” He grunts, voice shaky.

”Are you ok?” Comes Sam's panicked and worried response.

”Yeah, I'm fine. I just got stabbed, that's all. Now will you hurry up?”

”Yeah, I'm coming. What about the angel?”

”He's gone. He left.” 

”Ok. I'm on my way.” Sam hangs up the phone and runs to the Impala dialing another number on his way. The person on the other side of the line picks up. ”Bobby, it's Sam! Get to where Dean is, now!” Sam hangs up and puts his phone in his back pocket and gets in the car, pushes the key into the ignition and pushes the pedal down as far as it'll go, revving the engine of the 1967 Impala before speeding off to Dean's location. 

”Dean?” Sam yells as he parks the car and hurriedly gets out of it. Sam slams the car door shut and locks it, quickly shoving the key into the lock on the car door, twisting it, then pulling it out. He looks around, observing his surroundings, scaling every inch of the grey courtyard with his eyes for any sign of his brother. He spots a crumbled heap on the ground next to a tall concrete fence and hurries over. ”Dean!” he yells as soon as he sees his brothers condition: the blood seeping out of the mans stab wound coloring the ground beneath him a dark red. Dean is lying on the ground on his stomach in a small ball, clutching his side with both hands. Sam goes to turn him over, but Dean protests, shoving his younger, but taller brother away from him, denying his help. 

”I'm fine, Sam.” He grunts and starts shoving himself up from the ground, other hand still covering the bleeding wound. Sam helps him up and starts leading him to the Impala, supporting him from the waist. Bobby pulls over behind the Impala as soon as the boys make it over to the car.

”What the hell happened to you?” He barks from inside the truck and gets out to help Sam get Dean in the impala. Sam goes to open the trunk of the black Impala. He retrieves the medical kit and goes back to Dean, who's lying on his good, uninjured side in the back seat of the Impala. Sam and Bobby start inspecting the stab wound on Dean's side, both sighing in relief when they notice the wound isn't deep and seems to have done little damage.

”Hurry it up, Lucifer's at the church.” 

”What? How do you know?” 

”Cas told me.”

”Castiel is under Lucifer's control, apparently. He could be lying to you.”

”No, Cas wasn't under his control when he told me.” Dean pushed himself up on his elbows. ”We gotta go.” Dean was trying to get off the back seat and grab the car keys from Sam's clutches.

”Oh no! You're staying there. I'm driving.” Sam says, throwing his arm back so the key's are out of Dean's reach. He shuts the car door, leaving Dean in the back seat alone and then climbs into the front seat himself. He presses the pedal with his other foot and starts driving towards the church in their small home town, Bobby following close behind in his own truck.


	7. Chapter 6

Dean passes out on the long drive to the church. His breathing is ragged but steady. Sam keeps glancing at him through the rear view mirror in concern, keeping tabs on whether or not he's still breathing. When they near the cemetery where the church resides, Sam calls Bobby on his cell to come up with a battle plan. Dean wakes up just in time to help out with their plan. Sam and Bobby try to convince Dean to stay in the car when they sneak into the church, but Dean refuses, arguing that this is his responsibility. The other two sigh and give up trying to make Dean stay in the car, knowing how stubborn the man can be. They eventually come up with a plan: Dean will sneak in through the back entrance to the church, Sam will go through the left side door and Bobby the right side door. They each choose to take one small gun and a medium sized knife, easily hide-able, in their jacket pockets. Sam and Bobby pull up their cars a little ways from the cemetery in a small clearing in the woods, where they are hidden from sight. Dean is a bit wobbly on his feet, but quickly adjusts and manages to stay upright. They tread carefully through the thick woods and climb above the spiky fence, one at a time. The three hide in the shadows as they make their way to their respective spots and once everyone is in place, they quickly call each other and confirm they are all ready for infiltration. Bobby is the first one to go in, gun cocked and ready. He sees Lucifer facing the back entrance. The man doesn't seem to notice as Bobby makes his way inside the church, hiding behind the rows of chairs. Bobby sees Sam peek through the door on the left side of the church and motions for him to take his spot. Sam cautiously moves to his spot on the opposite side of the church, each step careful and calculated. He succeeds in getting to his intended spot without rousing Lucifer's attention. Dean waits calmly outside the back entrance door for any sign from Sam or Bobby. He receives a text message from Sam saying he needs to find another way in, that Lucifer is facing the back entrance directly. Dean moves around the corner, slowly and still a bit shaky on his feet. He opts to go down the stairs that lead to the church basement, which used to serve as a bunker during the last war.

The basement is dusty and quiet. Dean's every step echoes in the large empty basement, now used as a storage area for church records. The records are all kept in a locked room that has a secret entrance leading directly behind the altar. The secret entrance was used as an escape method in the last war, when the people in the church had to hide from soldiers or take shelter from the bombs. Dean walks over to the locked room and starts picking the lock with a small lock pick he has started carrying around with him. With a few simple twists of the pick, he unlocks the door and steps in. The room is tidy and clean, unlike the rest of the basement. He has no trouble finding the secret entrance, having used it a lot when he was young and wanted time to think on his own. He and Sam always used to sneak in here and talk or read over some of the church records out of boredom. Dean steps into the small space the hidden entrance reveals and starts climbing the shaky wooden ladder in it. He pushes the latch above him open just enough to be able to see his surroundings. He spots Lucifer near the back entrance, mumbling something that sounds like orders in a quiet muffled voice. Dean opens the latch fully and starts climbing out of it trying not to make a single sound. He is half way out when Lucifer turns around.

”Well, well, well.” He rolls off his snakey tongue. A smile starts forming on his thin lips. ”Look what we have here.” Lucifer walks towards Dean, who's quickly climbed out of the hole, and is now standing on two shaky feet, one hand leaning on the altar table for support. Dean takes out the gun in his pocket and points it at Lucifer, to which the man just laughs. ”Oh, go ahead and shoot me. It won't do you much good.” He taunts. Dean lifts his other arm to support the gun, steadying his aim. He cocks the weapon and slowly starts backing away from Lucifer, rounding to the other side of the altar. Lucifer stops on the other side of the table, his pose relaxed and nonchalant. ”Come on! Pull the trigger!” Lucifer opens his arms wide, exposing his chest. Dean's eyes widen in confusion, and he hesitates to pull the trigger. He misses his chance when a shot rings from behind him, hitting Lucifer on his right shoulder, just barely grazing it. Lucifer doesn't even flinch when the bullet scrapes a wound on his arm, he just looks at the blood flowing from it passively. Dean jumps forward, hopping over the low altar table, gun in one hand, a small glass vial in the other. He extends his arm with the vial and tries to catch some of the blood dripping from Lucifer's wound. Lucifer is caught slightly off guard: he is too slow and fails at dodging Dean's attempts. Dean gets a few drops of his blood, and starts retreating. He places a plastic cork on the vial and stashes it in his soft, padded pockets with the other vial and slowly backs away from Lucifer, gun aiming ready at his heart. Recognition sparks in Lucifer's eyes, before fury takes over when he realizes what Dean is trying to do.

”Dean, we need to get out, now!” Sam yells from behind his hiding spot. Both Bobby and Sam get up and start rushing for the doors, which slam close right before they manage to reach them. 

”You're not going anywhere.” Lucifer whispers, his voice loud and booming inside the large church, echoing long after he has finished his sentence. Everyone stops in their tracks and they look at Lucifer. When Sam and Bobby aim for him with their weapons again, Lucifer throws them to the wall with a flick of his hand, pinning both in midair on the cold surface. Dean tries to move, but Lucifer has a mental hold on him, pinning his feet to the floor beneath him. Lucifer approaches him, bearing a maniacal grin on his face. Dean struggles to move, but is only capable of moving his head, mouth and eyes. He watches frozen as the blonde approaches him with short, deliberately slow steps. Lucifer walks in close, too close to comfort, and grabs Dean's chin with his other hand. Dean narrows his eyes and tries to keep his facial expression neutral, but Lucifer can sense his fear and apprehension from how much he's shaking. Dean doesn't even notice he was shivering until Lucifer decides to comment on it: ”My my, you are shaking, aren't you? Not scared of me, are we?” Dean tenses, clenching his teeth together as hard as he can. His whole jaw is rigid.

”Dean!” Sam shouts, grunting when the force holding him still pushes him harder on the wall. Lucifer hums something to himself and turns his attention back on whatever he was working on near the back door. Dean, Bobby and Sam all try to break free, but none of them can move a muscle. Lucifer clangs something together loudly, then chants smooth words in a weird language before turning to face Dean once more. 

”You can be my sacrifice for tonight.” Dean furrows his brows together: did Lucifer just say 'sacrifice'? ”Not that I need one, but it'll strengthen the spell considerably.” Lucifer smiles and moves towards Dean, taking a large jagged knife from the table off to the far corner of the church with him. He wets the knife with a red liquid smelling suspiciously of blood, the coppery scent making its way to Dean's nose, causing him to cringe at the strong smell. Lucifer then pushes the sharp tip of the knife to Dean's chest, right below his clavicle. Dean grunts from the pain as the blade pushes through his skin and draws blood. Lucifer starts dragging the knife down in a straight line, ripping Dean's t-shirt in the progress. Dean squeezes his eyes shut and tries to block out the pain. The tip of the blade feels like it's burning through Dean's skin, the liquid poured on it obviously doing something to enhance the knife's cutting capabilities. Lucifer starts tracing a circle on Dean's chest with the knife, carving small symbols around and inside the circle. Dean can hear Sam and Bobby struggling against the force pinning them to the wall. Lucifer draws one last symbol in the middle of Dean's chest, slowly cutting the sensitive skin on the mans muscular abdomen, before preparing to strike. Lucifer lifts the knife above his head and swings it towards the middle of Dean's chest.

”No!” Sam screams in panic. Dean flinches and closes his eyes, preparing himself for the impact that never comes. He suddenly feels his limbs going limp and he falls to the ground, the force keeping him still lifting. Sam and Bobby are free and on their feet now, running towards Dean. When Dean looks up, Lucifer isn't where he was before. Instead the man is crouched in a corner, the blade is sliding accross the sleek floor boards out of Lucifer's reach. Dean sees familiar wings covering his field of vision.

”Cas!” Castiel turns around to look at Dean, giving Lucifer a chance to reach for the knife. The angel stops him by jumping on top of him, attempting to wrestle him to the ground.

”Dean! The spell! Do it now!” He screams, familiar blue gleaming in his eyes. Dean nods and gets the vials of blood out. Sam and Bobby rush to his aid and together they mix the ingredients, a few common plants and the angels blood, necessary for the control reversing spell. They draw the sigil needed on the ground with a piece of white chalk Bobby has in his pockets. Dean tries to go help Castiel, but Sam stops him. 

”No way! Read the spell, I'll help Cas.”

”I can't read this!”

”Try the translation!” Sam says as he starts running to aid Castiel, who's been thrown off of Lucifer and is now writhing on the ground, holding his abdomen with both hands.

”The translation won't work!” Castiel gasps. ”Hold him off!” he says before running to the other side of the church where Dean and Bobby are. He grabs the sheet of paper containing the spell from Dean's hands and hastily starts reading it out loud. Bobby leaves Dean and Castiel to handle the spell and goes to help Sam, who's being choked by the neck on the ground, hands flailing and punching, trying to release himself from Lucifer's grip. Bobby takes his gun and aims at Lucifer. He pulls the trigger and hits the man square in the heart. Lucifer lounges forwards a bit, releasing his tight grip on Sam's neck and turns his torso around, glaring daggers at Bobby, allowing Sam the chance to gasp for breath and strike his knife into Lucifer's side. Bobby shoots Lucifer again, this time hitting in the head. None of this seems to be hurting Lucifer; the hits are merely succeeding in making him angrier each time. 

Castiel is nearly complete with reciting the spell. Dean is keeping a look out for Lucifer, urging Castiel to hurry up when Sam and Bobby get thrown to the ground. Sam is knocked unconscious when his head slams to the wall, and Bobby is left dizzy and woozy from the force of his fall. Lucifer is fast closing in on Dean and Castiel and Dean is forced to jump between the quickly approaching man and the winged angel huddled on the floor. Lucifer extends his hand and twists it, making Castiel snap his mouth shut and freeze on the spot.

”Cas!” Dean mutters under snarled teeth, glancing backwards towards the angels direction. Castiel is fighting to keep control. Dean gently touches the winged mans shoulder, hoping it will snap the angel out of it: it works and Castiel is soon continuing the spell, reading the spell out faster than before. Lucifer tries harder to cast Castiel back under his control, but taken by surprise and is forced to stop his attempts when Bobby shoots his final bullet into Lucifer's right shoulder. In the time it takes for Lucifer to regain his composure, Castiel has finished reciting the spell and is ready to throw the last ingredient, breaking the blonde man's control over him, into the pot containing the thick, dark reddish mixture. ”Now, Cas!” Dean shouts, and Castiel drops the snow white feather, taken from his wings, the last ingredient, Lucifer's blood, into the pot. The mixture explodes with a flash of light and starts smoking furiously. The smoke soon fills the room and starts encircling Castiel and Lucifer, pushing Dean, Sam and Bobby outside its powers reach. A bridge of dark smoke forms between the angel and his previous puppeteer, and with a final 'puf', the bridge breaks and explodes, temporarily filling the room with a loud 'Boom' and a thick sulphur smell. When the room clears of all of the remaining smoke, Lucifer is gone and Castiel is huddled on the ground breathing heavily. Bobby helps Dean, who has been weakened by blood loss, walk over to his unconscious younger brother.

”Hey, Sammy?” Dean calls out softly, rousing the younger man. Sam blinks heavily and rubbing his head, gets up into a sitting position.

”Did you do it?” is the first thing to escape the youths mouth. Dean gives him a hearty smile and nods over to Castiel, who has gotten up off the ground and is now straightening out the feathers on his wings, wiping blood that spilled on them during his struggle with Lucifer off. When Castiel notices Sam looking at him, he smiles awkwardly before returning to tending to his wings. Sam, still massaging the back of his head, starts getting up off the floor with the help of both Bobby and Dean, who is standing on shaky feet. ”So what now?” He asks.

”We kill Lucifer.” Castiel answers in a steady monotone voice. Confusion overtakes the joyful, relieved expressions on the other three's faces as they all turn around to face the angel.

”What? Why?” All three say, nearly in perfect unison.

”He can still try to control me. And if he had the means to raise me in the first place, then he must also have other means to wreck all kinds of havoc on the earth. It's best to be safe and destroy him before he does anything else.” Castiel states simply, simultaneously cleaning the floor and walls of the church from the blood with small and easy movements of his fingers.

”Well how do ya expect us to find him?” Bobby interrupts, annoyed at Castiel's uncaring tone. Castiel shoots him an icy glare.

”I don't know.”

”We can think about that later, can we please just get out of here?” Sam cuts in, now dragging the half-conscious Dean next to him, his chest still bleeding. Castiel and Bobby nod and rush to help Sam keep Dean standing while they walk to the cars located outside the church grounds. Once Dean is safely in the back seat of the impala, unconscious from blood loss, the stab wound Castiel inflicted on him before bleeding again, Castiel disappears to go search for Lucifer. He tells Sam to call for his name when Dean is safe and sound, being treated at a hospital. Sam tries yelling after the angel to heal Dean right then and there instead, but the angel is already far away and out of earshot.

Sam drives the Impala to the nearby emergency room and Bobby follows closely behind in his old truck. They drive as fast as their cars will take them, for the nearest emergency room is a half an hour drive away and both are concerned for Dean's health. Sam ignores the speed limit and most of the lights, only stopping at the large intersections still buzzing with cars. When he reaches the hospital on the Impala, he hastily parks the car near the hospital door and starts trying to shake Dean awake. Dean is groggy, tired, and out of it when he wakes up enough to push himself up to a somewhat standing position and throw his arm around Sam's neck. Bobby drives in and parks the truck near the Impala, then gets out to help Sam with Dean by grabbing the boy's other arm and wrapping it around his own neck. Together they slowly walk Dean inside the emergency room. 

The staff is shocked and slightly horrified at the drawn symbols on Dean's chest. All sorts of questions arise, such as: where did this happen, who did this, what does the symbol mean. Neither Sam nor Bobby give the answers to the curious and worried nurses' questions. The questions quickly cease when Dean is dragged into a room where his wounds will be stitched up and cleaned. When the doctor returns from stitching up Dean, he tries questioning Sam and Bobby about Dean's condition, but they don't give him any answers either, instead they rush into Dean's room to see him completely bandaged up, blood and IV-liquids containing pain killers being pumped into his veins and sleeping soundly. Sam sits down on the seat beside the bed and stares at Dean, when he suddenly feels a bit dizzy. Bobby suggests he get his head checked out while they're here at the hospital, but Sam refuses, opting to sit beside Dean's bed instead. The emergency room staff can't get him to leave and they soon give up trying and let him stay at the hospital for the night. Bobby goes home to rest for the night, leaving Dean in Sam's capable hands. Sam ends up falling asleep on the chair, head resting on Dean's bed near Dean's shoulder, nearly tipping over multiple times when he dozes off while leaning backwards.

Sam wakes up in the middle of the night when Castiel taps on his shoulder gently. 

”How's Dean?” Castiel asks, voice hushed and low. Sam rubs the sleep away from his eyes and massages his neck, stiff from the odd position he's been sleeping in.

”Fine I guess. He hasn't woken up yet, but he's breathing normally and his heart seems to be doing fine. The doctors gave him some extra blood yesterday so he should be alright.” Sam looks down at Dean's abdomen. ”He'll probably have scars on his stomach though.” he looks back at Castiel a bit sadly. Castiel nods then reaches over to touch Dean's left shoulder. The wounds on Dean's face suddenly vanish and his skin color returns to it's normal tan-ish shade. Dean's eyelids flutter open and he starts peering around the room, looking first at Castiel then at Sam. Sam is staring at the angel with anger, wondering why the angel couldn't just do this before. 

”Hello Dean.” Castiel says as he sits down on the side of Dean's bed, turning his upper body so he's looking at Dean over his wing. Dean pushes the wing aside, so that Castiel's blue eyes are now staring at him from behind the angels shoulder. 

”Hey, Cas.” Dean stares at Castiel back. They stay still for what seems like an eternity to Sam, who suddenly feels like he shouldn't be in the room at the moment. 

”Hey, guys.” Sam tries to stop the awkward staring contest going on between the angel and his hospitalized brother. The men snap out of their trance-like state and both turn to face Sam. ”Uhh, anyway...” Sam starts, ”Did you find Lucifer?”

”No. There was no sign of him. Wherever he's gone, he's hidden himself well.”

”Are you gonna keep looking for him?” Dean quickly cuts in before Castiel has a chance to say any more.

”Yes. But there's no point in looking for him without any clues.”

”So... what are you going to do in the meanwhile?” Sam raises his eyebrow at the angel, who raises his own in return, almost like a mirror image. 

”I'm not sure.” The angel mutters looking away from both brothers while getting off the bed. Castiel has newly acquired a light beige trench coat that's very large on him. His wings are poking out of small holes on the back of the trench coat, the back already covered in mud and grass and all other kinds of small nature items, such as pine needles. There's a pine cone in Castiel's hair, which Sam just now notices, when the angel is standing against the light coming from outside the hospital room windows. Sam points it out to Dean, who lets out a quiet laugh that causes Castiel to turn around and face him, his wings knocking over a stack of magazines on the back table of the room. Dean starts pulling off the various pipes and needles jammed into his arms and removes the blanket from on top of him. He gets off of the small, narrow bed, the split going down the back in his hospital gown slightly exposing his lean muscles. 

”Wait, Dean!” Sam gasps and tries to stop his older, but shorter brother from getting up off the bed. Dean brushes him aside and assures him he feels absolutely fine. Dean walks over to Castiel and removes the pine cone form his hair, flicking it aside on the shiny and surprisingly slippery hospital floor. Castiel looks at the pine cone and picks it up, examining it in his sleek, slightly feminine hand. The angel and Dean stand still, eyes locked. Sam suddenly straightens himself up and begins walking towards the hospital room door, face twisted in an annoyed frown.

”Where are you going?” Dean looks at him incredulously.

”You guys need to get a room.” Sam says as he leaves through the small door, huffing on his way out. Castiel and Dean stay in the room looking after Sam for a while before Dean clears his throat and starts looking for his clothes in a huff of embarrassment, his cheeks a faint reddish hue. Castiel excuses himself when Dean starts taking off the hospital gown and disappears, leaving Dean to clothe himself in the small, uncomfortably white, tiled hospital room.

Once Dean is fully clothed and ready to go, his belongings in tow, he and Sam leave the emergency room, with many protests from Sam - "You need to rest." - , carefully sneaking past the reception desk and doing their best to avoid the cameras that are busy filming away the nights happenings. Sam throws Dean the Impala's key's when they get outside the huge glass doors of the building, Dean smiling excitedly at the prospect of driving his beloved car. Dean unlocks the car door by quickly twisting the key, opens the shiny car door and sits on the familiar feeling seat. He chuckles and strokes the steering wheel before turning the key in the ignition, bringing the car to life with a loud roar which sounds like music to Dean's ears. He reverses away from the tiny parking space, too small for the large muscle car, then pushes the pedal and speeds off, back towards his home, Sam sitting quietly in the seat next to him. Once they reach home, Sam heads straight to the guest bedroom and changes his clothes before falling asleep on the bed. Dean doesn't bother with removing his day clothes, he only takes off his shoes before landing gently on the soft bed with a slight 'thud' and falling asleep on his stomach. He doesn't even stir when Castiel visits him in the night and tries shaking him awake. Dean snores the night away loudly, drool flowing down the side of his angular chin.


	8. Chapter 7

In the following couple of months Castiel visits Dean and Sam on and off, spending most of his time hunting Lucifer. The brothers both keep an eye on the news for any sign of anything relating to Lucifer, but so far they haven't gotten any closer to finding the man, and neither has Castiel, although the angel's been all over the world, searching every mountain, every cave, every forest and every other possible hiding place he can think of. They aren't even one step closer to finding and disposing of Lucifer than they were after the incident at the church. On the other hand, Castiel and Dean have begun to form a strong friendship. They've become accustomed to each others habits, likes and dislikes as well as attitudes, and they have been hanging out together a lot in the few months that have passed. Sam has gone back to the university to continue his studies, making up for time lost studying during his and Dean's road trip to save the world. Sam did take a few internet courses during his leave with Dean, but it wasn't enough to cover all his courses. Dean himself has returned to working at Bobby's garage. He is also doing bar tending shifts at a small bar nearby his home during the nights. He lost both his other jobs when he begun hunting the angel, so he had to find a new job to go along with the one he has at Bobby's. Sam forbade him from getting two jobs on top of the one at the garage, which is why he is currently working only two part-time jobs.

Dean is hard at work at Bobby's garage when Castiel abruptly sneaks up on him, making him drop the wrench he is holding.

”Oh my god, Cas, warn me!” He shouts, more surprised than angry.

”I'm sorry.” Castiel apologizes sincerely, picking up the fallen wrench and handing it back to Dean, who grasps it in his right hand and continues working on the old; more like ancient; and rusty yellow Volvo. ”I need your help, Dean.” Dean drops his tools and stands up, turning around to look the angel in the eye. Castiel is leaning in close, closer than he should be, and Dean has to, once again, remind the angel of the meaning of 'personal space'. ”I need a place to stay.” Castiel mentions suddenly.

”Ok, I've got a guest room.” Dean says. ”But why? It's not like you've needed sleep or food before, so why would you need a place to stay?” Dean questions, his face twisted in a confused frown, one eyebrow lifted, the other pressing downwards.

”I think I'm losing my powers.” Castiel shrugs.

”Losing your powers?”

”I am unable to transfer myself from one location to another as fast as I used to. Neither can I transport myself as far as before.” Castiel thinks for a second, examining Dean's facial expressions. ”I have also found myself becoming tired and hungry.” Castiel looks confused, ”It is all very weird to me.” He admits quietly. Dean is sure Castiel's voice contained a hint of embarrassment just now. "I also cannot heal myself the way I could before. Only small cuts and bruises."

”Ok, so you're becoming human or something?” 

”I guess so.” Dean scratches the back of his head and thinks, before nodding to Castiel.

”Ok, you can stay at my place,” He says, ”but you're going to have to help with the housework.” he continues.

”Of course.” Castiel agrees. ”Thank you, Dean.” He smiles with a small, joyous but shy smile that brings a grin to Dean's face. Castiel looks so innocent and child-like. 

”Yeah, sure.” Dean mutters as he turns his back on the angel and starts working on the car again. Castiel hangs around for the remainder of Dean's work shift, hovering over his back staring at what the man is doing. They go home together once Dean's shift ends and after Dean has reported to Bobby. Castiel has a hard time getting in the backseat of the Impala, his wings are nearly too large to fit in the car. In the end Dean has to push the tips of Castiel's white wings inside the car, then slam the door shut. The angel is forced to sit on an angel facing towards the car door on the right, his wings laying on the seat behind him, oddly twisted and folded. Why Castiel insists he drive in the car with Dean is beyond him, but Dean is fine with it as long as he can see where he's driving. When they arrive at Dean's place, they wait until there's no one out on the streets before getting out of the car and onto the driveway. Castiel twists his body awkwardly to get his wings out of the car, bending down backwards at the waist. Dean watches with an amused expression on his face when the angel starts straightening out his feathers, huffing and groaning in displeasure at the twisted feathers flying in all possible directions. Getting in the front door is almost as hard as getting Castiel in the car: his wings too huge and too tall to fit through the small door frame. As they settle in inside in the comfortable living room of Dean's house, Dean starts preparing the guest room, previously used by his younger brother Sam, for Castiel to use. He changes the sheets and throws the old ones that he was too lazy to wash before into the washing machine, then heads to the living room to sit on the couch with the sleepy angel nodding back and forth tiredly on the leather couch. Dean sighs heavily and lands on the couch loudly, the material beneath him giving a loud 'thud' sound. Castiel watches Dean quietly, feeling extremely sluggish and exhausted, examining the man's facial profile. Dean's head is leaned back over the back of the couch, his eyes closed and hands folded under his head.

”Uh, what time is it?” Dean yawns and looks at the shiny silver watch on his wrist exhales in annoyance when he sees the time: 18 minutes past 8 PM. Thank goodness he doesn't have a bar tending shift tonight, he might just fall asleep on the counter, or under it. ”Want a drink?” Dean asks Castiel and stands up, patting his clothes down, straightening the creases and folds that formed on them while he was sitting.

”I could do with a beverage.” Castiel speaks in a low tone, his voice rumbling slightly. Dean walks over to the kitchen, grabs two beers from the small fridge and sits back down on the couch, offering the other beer to Castiel. Castiel takes it and looks at the cap on the bottle, then opens it by twisting it open with his fingers. Dean looks at the angel as he shakes his hand in pain when the bottle cap's sharp edges nearly slice into his skin. 

”You know, if you would've waited, I could have opened it for you.” Dean laughs, holding up a shiny metal bottle opener and waving it in front of the frowning angels face. Castiel sets the bottle cap on the small coffee table in front of the couch and gingerly puts the mouth of the bottle to his lips and starts drinking the malty liquid. Dean opens his own beer with the bottle opener, sets the cap down next to the one Castiel placed on the coffee table and begins drinking his own beer, sipping large gulps of the brown drink down his throat. Dean throws his lean legs on the coffee table and flicks on the TV with the push of a button on the small black remote. He surfs the different channels before stopping to watch Dr. Sexy MD. Castiel leans forward to watch the large television screen, eyeing Dean every once in a while to see his expression. Dean is completely enthralled in the hospital drama, which Castiel finds very odd.

”What is this show?” Castiel cocks his head and furrows his brow. Dean is silent and keeps staring at the screen, completely ignoring the curious angel sitting next to him. Dean has moved his feet back to the floor and shifted his body forwards so his face is as close to the screen as it can be while he's still sitting on the couch. Castiel tries to alert Dean's attention by moving his hand before the mans face, but Dean only brushes his hand aside, away from his field of vision and continues watching the show, gasping audibly when the main character, Dr. Sexy himself appears on the TV-screen. Castiel, who is more than confused about Dean's reaction to the overly dramatic show, attempts to shake Dean into reality by gently nudging his shoulder. 

”Cut it out Cas.” Castiel is taken aback. He shrinks to the other side of the couch, confused and worried he did something wrong. He waits patiently until the show ends, watching the reactions the show is drawing out of the other man with great interest. When Dr. Sexy MD ends, Dean turns off the television and goes to the kitchen to dispose of the bottle caps and bottles, then he returns back to the living area, only to inform Castiel he's going to sleep. 

”I made the bed for you in the guest bedroom, go ahead and turn in if you want.” Dean mutters, pointing in the general direction of the guest bedroom, yawning in the middle of his sentence. Castiel nods in appreciation and heads to the small guest bedroom with the single bed off to the side of it, pulling his wings through the door. His wings hit the ceiling of the small room and for a second he wonders how exactly he's going to sleep on the bed. He stares at the blanket on the bed suspiciously before pulling it aside and settling on the bed on his backs, his wings uncomfortably beneath him on the soft mattress. He turns over to his side, shifting his wings so they're not below him anymore, then pulls the thick blanket on to cover his body up to his neck. Castiel is so tired, not having slept since he left Dean, Sam and Bobby to go looking for Lucifer, even though he had started becoming sleepy since around a month ago, that he falls asleep almost instantly. Castiel doesn't dream of anything during his slumber, but he's very restless, tossing and turning as much as his angel wings allow him to on the bed, his body not used to the weird sensation that is sleep.

 

When Castiel wakes up, his muscles are stiff and his wings hurt at the joints and a few of his feathers are bent and snapped. His eyes are filled with some sort of discharge that's making his vision hazy. He runs his fingers through his hair and yelps in surprise when his fingers get caught up in a painful knot. He untangles his hand from his dark hair and finds himself yawning, something he's never done before. He closes his mouth, finding his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth, a really uncomfortable feeling. When Castiel tries breathing through his nose, he is surprised at how difficult it is to draw in oxygen with a stuffy and slightly runny nose. The angel lifts himself into a sitting position and starts stretching his stiff limbs, groaning when his knee pops painfully. He gingerly drags himself out of bed and attempts to clear his throat of the mucus that built up during the night by coughing, and then rubs his eyes to rid of the discharge pulling at his eyelashes. Castiel smooths his feathers and proceeds to pull his wings out the small door. Dean is already up and cooking, a strong sweet smell emitting from the kitchen finding its way to the angels nose. Castiel walks over to the kitchen, still stretching his limbs and manages to scare Dean when he quietly steps up behind the man who is busy frying pancakes on the stove. Dean scolds the angel and commands him to take a seat in the dining room while he prepares breakfast for the both of them. Castiel obeys Dean's command and goes to the dining room to wait for him to finish cooking. On his way he glances at the electric clock on the white microwave: 5:30 in the morning. 

Dean comes to the dining room carrying two empty plates and one stacked high with golden brown pancakes. He sets them down on the table and retrieves the dark bottle of maple syrup and two pairs of the shiny, metallic forks and knifes from the kitchen. He sits down next to the angel, pushing the mans other wing up and dodging under it to get to his seat. Dean pours an unhealthy amount of the sticky, thick maple syrup on top of two pancakes he lifts from the large pile onto his small plate. The syrup threatens to overflow and fall to the table, but Dean scoops up the syrup with a huge piece of pancake and then proceeds to stuff the syrup drenched pancake into his mouth. Castiel watches Dean beside him, then copies him by pouring a large heap of syrup on top of his pancakes, before taking a careful bite out of his pancake. Castiel hums in pleasure as the sweet flavors mix in his mouth, savoring every bite of the delicious pancake. The angel licks his fingers thoroughly when some of the brown maple syrup falls on them from his fork. Dean glances over and sees the angels smooth tongue moving slowly over those lean hands and without realizing, he blushes at the sight. Castiel doesn't seem to notice the hint of red creeping up on the other mans cheeks and continues with his meal after licking his fingers clean of the sticky syrup. Dean hastily returns to eating his own meal, still slightly flustered at what he just saw, and very confused about his own reaction. Once they are both done eating, Dean quickly excuses himself to the bathroom, leaving the angel to deal with putting the dishes in the sink. Castiel manages to place the empty plates in the grey metal sink without breaking them, even though he nearly drops them on the floor when he trips over the small threshold between the kitchen and dining room. Castiel decides to go sit down in the living room to wait for Dean. He picks up the remote control and tries to figure out which button to press to turn the television on. He finally picks the right one and the TV turns on with a pop. An commercial show is running on the TV channel the television starts on, advertising some kind of weird, new kind of bra that promises to give lift and support while also being comfortable. Castiel changes the channel, first fumbling with which button to press before finding the right one. He casually flips through the channels, looking for something worth while to watch, but ends up finding nothing but commercials. 

When Dean steps out of the bathroom, his face dripping in water, a small towel currently wiping off the small water droplets on his left cheek, his cheeks have returned to their normal tan color instead of the rosy red they were before. Dean takes a large duffle bag from the corner of the living room and heads for the front door. 

”Where are you going?” Castiel asks, his head turning towards Dean.

”Work.”

”Oh. When will you be back?” 

”Late.” Dean says and opens the dark, wooden front door. He glances back at the winged man on the soft leather couch. ”Try not to wreck the house while I'm gone.”

”Is there anything I could help with?” Castiel asks warily.

”Not really.” Dean remarks bluntly before seeing the hurt expression on the angels face. He thinks for a moment, rubbing his face with both hands, then suggests: ”I could take you with me to Bobby's. He might be able to offer you something to do while I'm working.” Castiel looks excited by this and is up and heading towards Dean by the front door while Dean is still busy with his sentence. They get out of the front door, Dean carefully making sure no neighbors are around who might spot Castiel's wings and begin asking questions that Dean really doesn't want to answer. Castiel gets into the backseat with little difficulty this time.

”Can't you somehow get rid of those wings?” Dean asks, annoyed because his vision is partly blocked by the large white feathers on the angels back. He watches the angel from his rear view mirror and sees him shake his head. Dean shrugs, rolls his eyes and starts the motor, the engine revving loudly with a 'purr' like sound, which sounds like music to Dean's ears. He sets off in his Impala, his duffle bag on the front seat beside him and his winged friend in the back, sitting quietly, head turned towards the window, his eyes examining the scenery outside the pristine glass. Dean begins driving towards Bobby's garage, turning on an old cassette tape of classic rock music, humming softly to the songs. Castiel sits in the back, hands folded on his lap facing out the window, staying completely still except for the occasional small movement in his fingers: the angel keeps twiddling his thumbs nervously. The drive is short and uneventful and uncomfortably quiet. When they arrive at Bobby's place, Castiel and Dean exit the car and head towards the main entrance, knocking twice before entering through the unlocked door. Bobby is sitting inside on a writing desk writing out some sort of business forms, stamping them after writing his signature on them then stacking them away in a filing cabinet. Bobby looks up and greets the men:

”Mornin' Dean. Castiel.” 

”Hey Bobby.” Dean greets back. Castiel nods politely. ”Can you let Cas stay here while I work? Think of something for him to do?” Bobby stares at Dean with one of his 'are you serious?' looks. Bobby adjusts the cap on his head and places the stamp down on the table. 

”If he wants to help me with these stupid papers then be my guest.” Bobby sighs, obviously irritated by the amount of paperwork he has still yet to do. ”I can't pay him though. He'll have to deal with getting food out of it.” Dean turns to Castiel, asking him if he's ok with this. When the angel nods enthusiastically, a smile lighting up his face, Dean turns back to Bobby.

”Deal. I'll come get him after I'm done with work tonight.” Dean says, but Bobby interrupts him.

”Hold it boy, explain what's going on exactly. Why isn't he looking for Lucifer and why does he need to stay here?” Bobby eyes the angel curiously. Dean fumbles with his words, tries to think of a good way to explain.

"He's lost his powers, apparently." Dean sighs and gives Castiel a quick glance from the corner of his eye. Castiel seems almost embarrassed by this. The angel hides his face by looking down and turning so his side is facing Bobby, wings leaning against the wall. Bobby lets out a quiet 'hmph' sound and returns to working on his papers.

"And he can't stay at your place?" Bobby asks, face calm and contained but his voice clearly shows signs of becoming annoyed. It's Dean's turn to be embarrassed. The man gives Castiel an apologetic nod, and says to Bobby:

"I don't trust him to be alone at my house. Or anywhere really." Castiel is clearly offended, but he lets it go, thinking it best not to prove Dean right. More than anything, he is confused though. Why doesn't Dean trust him in his house? "I mean no offence Cas, but..." Dean pauses and waits until the angel looks at him before continuing, "...your wings are kind of big, and you knocked things over with them the last time too. Also, you sort of tried to kill all of us. I wanna make sure you're not under Lucifer's control anymore, and I can't do it because I have work and people won't take kindly to you after all those murders and accidents you caused." Dean points towards the two enormous feathery wings protruding from Castiel's back. "And people probably won't understand the wings, either." he finishes. Castiel seems to understand a bit better, but is still wearing a hurt puppy dog face. Dean scoffs and begs for Bobby to help him, who hesitantly agrees and assigns the angel to stamping duty: Bobby signs a paper, Castiel stamps it and archives it in the folder of Bobby's choosing. The angel seems content with his job, so he takes a slow, careful seat next to Bobby at the writing desk, positioning his wings out of the way. Castiel enthusiastically begins stamping the sheets of paper Bobby keeps passing his way. Dean leaves through the door, waving a small goodbye to Bobby and the angel, but both are too busy to notice. He goes back to his Impala, gets the rest of his tools from the trunk of the car, then returns to the garage yard to work on the rusty cars.

Castiel and Bobby quickly finish up the paperwork with surprisingly few problems. The angel managed to swipe all the already filed papers on to the floor with his wings, but thankfully each different type of paper was stamped with a different shaped stamp, so they were easy to sort again. The largest problem presents itself in the form of painful, but small paper cuts the angel keeps getting on his fingers. Those are easily mended with small plain bandages, some are fine with even just a little running water, which Castiel finds to sting uncomfortably. Once all the paperwork is finished, Bobby leaves Castiel to entertain himself while he attends to customers out in the yard and checks on Dean's progress. Castiel cautiously peers around the roomy house, carefully examining childhood photos of Dean and his younger brother Sam. Castiel barely recognizes Dean at first, his face much more masculine and features much more defined now than when he was younger. The angel eventually recognizes Dean from his eyes and sense of style, which to this day has remained the same as it was 10 - 15 years ago. Castiel smiles fondly, his eyes turning warm and wrinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes. He has small dimples on his cheeks when he smiles, which make his smile all the more sweet. Bobby walks in when the angel is staring at a picture oh Sam, Dean and Bobby together at a park.

"What are you lookin' at?" Bobby asks casually. Castiel replaces the picture where he took it from after showing Bobby what he was staring at so intently.

"You all look so happy." The angel smiles shyly. " Are you their father?" Castiel inquires. Bobby walks fully inside the large room hauling a large box with him. He shakes his head, the cap he's wearing shakes with it.

"No, their dad died a few years back."

"Oh." Castiel nods passively, looking down, weighing his next words carefully. "I'm sorry." He mutters quietly.

" Yeah, well. He was a crap dad sometimes." Bobby frowns, " I practically raised the boys." he continues.

"What about their mother?" 

"She died when Dean was still four." Bobby sighs sadly. "Their father became an alcoholic after that. Dean's taken care of Sam ever since, tryin' to make sure he gets his education. That's why he works such long days." 

"Is that why he often twists and turns in his sleep? Are his fathers drinking habits to blame?"

"No, it ain't the only reason." Bobby scoffs and carries the box to the writing table, carefully placing it on top of the desk so as not to break or spill its contents. Castiel stops to look at the old bearded man with the thick southern accent, confusion rising on his face once again.

"Then what is it?" Castiel asks innocently, eyes large and hopeful, but prepared at the same time. Bobby doesn't answer, he just starts taking out the piles and piles of papers.from inside the cardboard box on top of the small, raggedy, dark wooden writing desk. The angel and the bearded older man spend a moment in silence. Castiel returns to looking at the picture while Bobby continues signing the paper work sitting on the table before him. The silence is broken when Bobby asks the angel to return to stamping the paperwork. Castiel complies and sits back down and begins to stamp the white sheets flying in his direction with the dark blue ink. Bobby startles the angel when he suddenly speaks in a low voice:

"Dean's had a tough life. The kid's been through a lot. He's always thought that Sam's well being is more important than his own, that idjit." Bobby exhales with a long, lingering puff of air and slouches back in his work chair. "That damn fool can't get his priorities straight." Bobby looks downright angry at the young green eyed man. He never takes his eyes off his work while talking, not even to pick up the large stash of supplies he knocks over, its contents , such as the pencils, the eraser bits and rulers now all over the floor. Castiel decides it may be for the best not to push the subject and stay quiet. They finish the second badge of paper work very quickly, their teamwork proving to be quite efficient. Once they finish, Bobby excuses himself to go cook lunch, asking Castiel what he would like to eat. When the angel cannot give the man a clear answer, Bobby decides he will just make his usual quick and easy burgers. Bobby orders the winged man to stay in the living room where the old writing desk is, and keep out of trouble. Once the food is finished, Bobby disappears into the yard where Dean is working to give him his lunch, then returns to the kitchen. Bobby and Castiel quickly eat, Castiel taking a great liking to the bacon-cheese-burgers, and return to work, this time filing various car parts into their specific containers.

When Dean comes back from his bar tending job, which he went to earlier in the day, he is exhausted and visibly in a bad mood. His jobs have drained him from nearly any and all energy he has. He snaps at Bobby for pestering him to eat and grabs Castiel along with him heading to his beloved Impala. When they are outside, Castiel notices Dean stumble on his way to the car. The man wipes his forehead and gets in the front seat. Castiel squeezes into the back, tucking his wings in carefully so they aren't in Dean's way. The angel can see that the taller mans forehead is dripping in sweat and his cheeks are flushed red.

"How are you feeling, Dean?" Castiel questions cautiously.

"I'm fine." comes the short snappy answer. Castiel considers whether or not he should mention his chat with Bobby to the man, and decides on hinting it.

"You don't have to work yourself so hard, Dean. I'm sure Sam will be fine. You needn't work yourself to the point of exhaustion for him." Dean's tired expression shifts from that of irritation to anger.

"What the hell do you know?" he snaps back.

"You look exhausted, I don't think..." Castiel begins, mouth hanging open, his next words still lingering on his tongue, but Dean turns his head to face the angels and interrupts him with a loud shout:

"I don't really care what you think! Mind your own business Cas!" Castiel shuts his mouth and keeps his head down.


	9. Chapter 8

When Dean and Castiel arrive at home after their long and exhausting drive, they both head straight to bed, their previous argument still weighing heavily on both men's minds. Castiel is baffled by Dean's strong reaction to his earlier statement, which was meant to lighten the mood not shove it six feet under. He cannot understand what he did to anger Dean further. The angel hates having to wait for Dean to calm down again before talking to him, but he guesses he's just going to have to. Castiel, disappointed and very confused, heads the bed and lays down on the soft mattress. He tries laying down on his side, but is unable to find a comfortable position, so he opts for sleeping on his stomach, even if that means he can't quite get the blanket to cover his shoulders. He shivers slightly in the cool dark air, and tries to readjust the blanket so it is on top of his cold shoulders as well, but he is unsuccessful in completely blanketing himself and is forced to sleep on his side again. Though his arm aches and his neck is in pain, he falls asleep quickly, his weaning powers increasing his need for sleep and other human needs. Castiel sleeps fitfully, and so does Dean in the other room, nearly falling to the floor once because he slid too close to the edge of the large bed. His nightmares keep waking him up during the night, and it doesn't help that his head hurts more than it should, he is sweating profoundly and that he is getting cold shivers all over his body. Dean's muscles also ache, making it difficult to find a position to sleep in without some part of his body hurting. Dean eventually falls asleep, many unsuccessful attempts later, and falls into a light haze, seeing crazy acid trip dreams the entire time.

 

Dean wakes up to the sun nearly blinding him from behind the blinds. He tries shielding his eyes with the blanket by pulling it over his head and turning on his other side. He begins falling back asleep when a sudden loud crash wakes him up. The man bolts out of bed and rushes towards the source of the noise. He enters his living room and finds Castiel on the floor trying desperately to clean up the broken remains of the flower vase that used to sit on top of the window sill. The angels left wing is covered in dark brown mud and leaves, and he is hurriedly trying to stuff the broken vase pieces and spilled mud into a plastic bag using the dustbin, only managing to make the dirt fly in all directions around and on him.

”What did you do?” Dean asks, voice still strained with anger because of their argument from the night before. Castiel drops the dustbin in surprise and turns to face the man standing next to him. Dean is looking down at him, arms crossed and clear annoyance written on his delicate features. Castiel starts gathering up the last of the dirt on the floor into the dustbin, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment. He mutters an incomprehensible response to Dean's earlier question and keeps his head down, avoiding the other mans gaze. ”Cas.” Dean warns and deepens his disapproving gaze towards the angel.

”I'm sorry.” Castiel nods slightly embarrassed while keeping his head down. Dean huffs and crouches to help Castiel clean up the mess on the floor, before ushering the angel into the bathroom to get cleaned. Dean begins filling the small bath tub with warm water for Castiel to bathe in, throwing various soaps in to the warm, steaming liquid. 

”Here.” Dean says to to the angel, handing over a small bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo to the winged man. ”Clean yourself up, I'll clean the rest of the mess.” Dean sighs, exiting the small bathroom and slamming the door behind him. Castiel stands next to the bath tub, rubbing the back of his head with his muddy hand, wondering what exactly Dean wants him to do. He allows the other man the time to clean up the rest of the mess outside, listening carefully to when Dean stops cleaning before calling out to him.

”Dean?” The angel asks softly, his quiet voice echoing slightly in the tiled bathroom. Castiel hears Dean approach the bathroom door, his foot steps loud and tired.

”What?” Dean calls out from behind the door, leaning slightly on the wall next to it. 

”What exactly is it I am supposed to do in here?” Castiel questions. He hears when Dean moans exasperatedly and twists the door knob, opening the white wooden door. Dean walks in and leans over the bath tub, turning off the still flowing water. He turns towards Castiel and points to him.

”You are supposed to undress, get in the tub,” He motions towards the white, shiny bath tub, then continues: ”and clean the dirt and mud off of your feathers with the soap.” He looks at Castiel's mud caked hair. ”And your hair too.” Dean says, grabbing the shampoo bottle from Castiel's hand and shaking it in front of the angels face.

”Umm...” Castiel mutters, his eyes thwarting from one corner of the room to the other, his shoulders lunched forwards, his entire pose radiating how unsure he feels. Dean rolls his eyes and tells Castiel to undress and get in the tub.

”Just get in, I'll help you out with the rest.” He says, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and pants. He grabs himself a towel and sets it down next to the bath tub then once again commands Castiel to take off his clothes and get in the warm water. Castiel starts removing his clothes, leaving them on the counter next to the sink in a crumbled heap. He hesitantly tries the water with the tips of his toes before sitting in the bath tub, submerging himself chest deep in the soapy water, his wings half in the warm water. Castiel finds the feeling the warm water creates in his wings and skin to be very comfortable and somehow soothing, although the multiple cuts on his skin from fights and yesterdays paper cuts sting a bit. Dean grabs the ivory colored bar of soap from the edge of the bath tub and begins lathering it in his hands and asks Castiel to twist his back so that he can wash both wings at once. Castiel twists as much as he can, his wings now outside of the bath tub and back facing Dean. The angel stays completely still, his legs folded against his chest, and wings as low as he can get them so Dean can properly wash them. Dean gets down on his knees and begins working the soapy lather into Castiel's dirty wings, carefully avoiding twisting any feathers. He massages the soap gently between the feathers and tries to rid the wings of all the dirt and mud in the progress. Dean picks off pieces of plant leaves and smooths the mud cakes off the delicate feathers with his lean fingers. Castiel shudders when Dean's hands begin massaging the gentle area near his back where the wings are attached to the toned muscles. A wave of pleasure hits Castiel suddenly, when Dean's fingers touch the connection point of his wings and back and he tenses, unfamiliar with the feeling. 

”What's wrong?” Dean asks, stopping what he's doing.

”Uh... Nothing. Just go ahead and continue.” Castiel ducks his head even lower then before, and allows Dean to continue cleaning his wings. The angel does his best to keep himself from shuddering at the pleasurable feeling the slow caress that Dean's fingers cause in him, and tries hard to keep the moans threatening to escape his lips inside. He is more than relieved when Dean moves on to wash his dirty hair. Dean grabs the shower head and orders Castiel to close his eyes. He quickly wets Castiel's dark, messy hair with the water then squirts a large amount of the shampoo into his hands and begins caressing the foaming shampoo into the angels hair. Dean makes sure to get the shampoo all over the angels matted dark hair and foams it properly. The foam begins turning slightly brown-ish from all the dirt in Castiel's hair and Dean cringes from the color. He finishes lathering the shampoo into Castiel's hair and tells the angel to turn so his wings are inside the bath tub. Castiel turns, carefully lifting his wings inside the boundaries of the white tub, trying not to flick any soap on Dean. Dean takes the shower head into his hands again, turns the knob and turns on the water, the warm liquid smoothly flowing down from the shower head. He washes Castiel's hair first, massaging the angels scalp while washing off the shampoo with the stream of water coming from the shower head. The remains of the shampoo flow down Castiel's lean body and soon his hair is clean of any dirt, the color slightly lighter than before. Dean moves on to wash the angels shivering wings from soap, caressing between the feathers, making sure to get every last speck of soap off. When Dean is finished with Castiel's wings, they are back to their clean snowy white and are wet and cold from the cool air hitting them. 

”Here, take this.” Dean offers Castiel the bar of soap he used to clean the feathers. ”Clean your body with it, then rinse off in the shower.” He says handing over the now turned off shower head. Castiel nods and begins lathering the soap all over his chest. Dean, without even noticing, runs his eyes over the angels body, noticing the deeply defined collar and hip bones, getting the urge to run his hands over them. He stares at the way the angels hands slowly move in circles around that soft, light skin, lathering up the soap. The man pulls the shower curtain closed to cover Castiel's body, and turns around so his back is facing Castiel to hide the blush heating his face. He breathes in and out slowly and deeply, eyes wide and hand covering his gaping mouth. He keeps exhaling and inhaling deeply while waiting for Castiel to be done. When he hears the angel turn off the shower after accidentally first turning it ice cold and shrieking in a loud, high pitched voice, he takes a clean towel from one of the drawers below the sink and throws it over the shower curtain, telling Castiel to dry himself off with it while he goes and gets the man some clean clothes. Dean walks off into his bedroom and rummages through his clothes looking for something suitable for the angel to wear. He finds a white button up collar shirt, almost exactly like the one before, that is too small for himself, and a pair of loose fitting dark pants, as well as a dark suit jacket, the same color as the pants. He also grabs a pair of tightly fitting boxers for the Castiel to wear. Dean brings the clothes into the bathroom and tells Castiel to get dressed, momentarily forgetting the existence of the angels wings and the fact that the angel has lost most of his powers.

”Um, Dean. I can't get these on.” Dean's eyes flicker in realization.

”Oh yeah, just, hold on a sec.” He says as he starts going through the insides of various cabinets in the bathroom. Castiel, in the meanwhile, puts on the boxers and the pants and dries his hair with the towel, his hair still slightly damp and looking very messy and puffy atop his head. The angel tries to comb his hair down with his fingers but is unable to, and so gives up and decides to wait for Dean to finish going through the cabinets. Once Dean rises up from the floor, holding a pair of scissors, a needle and two colors of thread. Dean begins cutting two straight lines on the backs of the shirts he brought for Castiel to wear. Castiel watches in amusement as the other man curses under his breath while cutting away at the dark fabric of the suit jacket. 

”Here, try to put this on.” Dean says, tossing the angel the white button up. Castiel examines the shirt, noticing two cuts going up the back of the shirt to two oval shaped holes approximately where Castiel's wings grow. He throws it over his back so his wings are coming out of the holes in the shirt and his hands are going through the sleeves. The angel buttons it up at the front and then turns around to look at the back from the mirror. ”Now stay still.” Dean says, grabbing the needle and a long strand of white thread, carefully pulling the other end of the thread through the needle hole. He knots the end of the white thread and pushes the tip of the needle through the hem of the shirt where he cut the fabric in two. Dean begins sowing the pieces of the shirt together with the thread, trying his best to make it look presentable and good, but his sowing skills aren't the greatest. When he reaches the angels wings, he knots and finishes the thread. Dean's handiwork is a bit messy, but it seems to hold well, even when Dean pulls on the fabric. He quickly finishes sowing up the shirt and then orders Castiel to put the suit jacket on. He switches to using the dark blue thread and begins sowing up the suit jacket too, taking slightly longer with this one since the fabric is a tougher, thicker material. Dean finishes one side of the jacket and tries pulling on the fabric to see if his stitches hold, and is annoyed to find he needs to strengthen the stitches with another layer. He begrudgingly begins sowing another layer of thread on the jacket and once finished, deems the sutures strong enough and moves on to the other side. The jacket is finally finished, and Dean looks up at Castiel's reflection in the mirror and smiles when he sees just how well the suit jacket fits the angel even with his slight modifications. Castiel smiles too and quickly thanks Dean, whose smile fades when the man sees the condition Castiel's hair is in.

”What.” Castiel's cocks his head innocently, his eyes and mouth open, bow drawn together.

”We need to do something about your hair.” Dean murmurs in a deep voice, a hint of disgust hidden within the low growl. The angel touches his hair with the tips of his fingers, eyes looking upwards.  
”Oh.” He realizes. Dean reaches for the plastic comb on the counter and runs it under the faucet to clean it up. He shakes most of the water off it and pulls a small stool for Castiel to sit on. Castiel sits down on the stool and spreads his wings so Dean can position himself behind him and begin combing his hair. Dean softly pulls on the ends of Castiel's thick mane with the comb, carefully untying the knots that have formed in it over time. Each strand of hair is combed through with plenty of care, and soon the hair on the back of Castiel's head is smooth and knot free. The angel tries the now soft short dark brown mane cautiously with his finger tips. The hair is still slightly damp, but it feels smooth and cleaner than before. Dean hands the angel the comb.

”Ok, your turn.” 

”Huh?” 

”Come on, comb your own hair. You have to learn. Now, go ahead.” Dean urges Castiel on, who hesitantly raises the comb and his other hand to his hair and begins smoothing down the top parts of the hairs with the ridges of the comb. The angel flinches and shouts out in pain when he hits a particularly painful knot and pulls on it too had, managing to pull out a mass of hair in the process. Dean sighs and twists the comb out of Castiel's fingers, disposing of the knot of hair left on the comb in the toilet. ”You need to do it very carefully, especially since your hair is so matted.” The man says as he begins smoothing out the dark locks atop the angels head with quick and careful movements of his wrists. Castiel sits on the stool completely still, hands folded on his lap and eyes taking note of each movement of the other mans hands. Soon enough the dark, damp locks are all knot free and smooth atop the winged mans head. The strands all stand up slightly, the longer locks falling slightly to one side, a few bending down to cover parts of Castiel's forehead. Dean runs his fingers through Castiel's hair, slightly shaking the locks so they look a bit wilder and more natural. Wind swept is the best way to describe the look the angel decides after examining it closer.

”Thank you.” He says to Dean, who is busy cleaning the comb under the running water coming from the silver colored metal faucet. Dean murmurs something under his breath that sounds a lot like 'No problem, but next time you do it yourself', but Castiel isn't quite sure that's what Dean said so he lets it go and decides not to mention it. Before the men exit the bathroom, the angel gives his wings a few shakes, ridding them of any water that might drip on Dean's floors. They then head to the kitchen to prepare breakfast together. 

”Break those eggs into that bowl. Don't let any shell fall in there.” Castiel looks at the chicken eggs before him and softly taps the shell of the egg, listening to the sound it makes. ”Just tap the egg on the corner of the bowl hard enough to break the shell, then pour the insides into the bowl.” Dean guides, while mixing up a mixture of sugar and cinnamon in a mortar into a fine powder. Castiel hesitantly taps the egg on the side of the bowl, creating a small crack on the shell. He taps harder on the same spot and sees the clear liquid like substance leaking out from inside the shell. ”Now separate the two sides of the shell.” Dean says, guiding Castiel's hands with his own, separating the fragile egg shell into two different sized pieces, allowing the yolk and egg whites to fall into the bowl, the yolk breaking and coloring the egg white with yellow. ”See? It's that easy. Now do the same with the other egg and make sure not to get any shell in there.” Dean says, pointing towards the bowl with the single raw egg in it and turns back to crushing the powder in the mortar. The angel grabs the next egg, confident he can do it properly and knocks it hard on the edge of the bowl, then separates the shell and lets the insides slide down the walls of the bowl to mix with the other egg. ”Great, now mix those up with this.” Dean shoves an egg beater into Castiel's hand after inspecting the mixture to make sure not a single piece of the white shell got in there. ”Just beat them lightly, only so the yolk and the egg whites mix together.” 

Castiel beats the eggs so they are well mixed together and hands the bowl over to Dean, who mixes the contents in the mortar into the eggs with the egg beater. Dean gets a bag of bread, already sliced into perfectly square shaped, thin slices and puts a frying pan with a little butter to warm up on the stove. He takes a slice of the wheat-y bread from the bag and starts turning it around in the bowl with the egg and cinnamon mixture. Castiel stares at what Dean is doing, a bit confused about what is going on. Dean grabs the handle of the frying pan and orders the angel to get a plate from one of the upper cabinets in the kitchen while he fries the first piece of 'French Toast'. The egg coating on the bread sizzles on the pan for a little bit, and Dean allows it to fry on one side for a minute before turning it over, revealing a nice golden brown color. The sweet cinnamon-y scent coming out from the pan invades Castiel's nose. The angel inhales and takes in the sweet smell and suddenly finds himself longing to eat the toast cooking away on the pan. Dean places the first finished piece of French Toast on a large serving plate and turns another toast in the egg mixture and puts it on the pan. 

”Get some plates and glasses for us to use, would you?” Dean asks Castiel, who quickly fishes out two white plates of the same size and two small glasses and then takes them to the dining room table, setting them neatly as he's seen Dean set them before. He returns to the kitchen to get a knife and a fork for both Dean and him from a small drawer and neatly places them on top of a brightly colored napkin beside the plates. He goes back to follow what Dean is doing in the kitchen. 

Dean is busily flipping away the fourth and final piece of french toast. The egg mixture has been completely absorbed by the flimsy pieces of toast, and the bowl now lays empty in the sink. Dean flops the last piece of toast on top of the others on the large plate and turns off the stove, leaving the frying pan to cool on the stove top. He takes a carton of orange juice from the refrigerator and grabs the plate with the food and marches to the dining room past Castiel. Dean takes his seat at the back of the room, back facing a window, and the angel sits on the chair on the opposite side of Dean. Dean grabs two of the cinnamon covered toast pieces from the stack and lets them fall down on his plate. He pours the both of them a little of the orange juice in the carton and proceeds to eating his first toast. Castiel follows Dean and takes the remaining two bread pieces from the plate and begins cutting them down into smaller pieces with the fork and knife. Castiel savors the sweet taste of the bread and allows the flavors to linger on his tongue before swallowing and gulping down the next piece. They both finish their first piece of toast simultaneously and before Castiel has the time to start his next one, Dean speaks out.

”Sorry about yesterday.” Castiel is taken aback by Dean's apology. He never expected the stubborn man before him to apologize or even acknowledge their argument from the night before.

”Oh, um. No problem.” Castiel mutters and takes a sip of the orange juice. ”Thank you for helping me this morning.” The angel quickly says and they both return to eating their breakfast in silence. The tension, that Castiel didn't even notice was there before, has been lifted and the men both happily finish eating their food and wash the dishes afterwards. Dean teaches Castiel to use the dishwasher and how to wash the frying pan in the sink. Once all the dishes are either in the dishwasher or are drying in the cupboards above the sink, Dean excuses himself to go dress and Castiel goes into the bathroom to examine his reflection. His eyes are a clear blue and his hair a dark chocolaty brown, which brings out the blue in his eyes even more. A small stubble, which was never there before, has begun to grow on his otherwise smooth chin. Castiel feels the prickly hairs with the tips of his fingers and eyes himself in the mirror with bewilderment. Dean knocks on the door and enters the bathroom, handing Castiel a white tooth brush. Dean picks up a tube of tooth paste from next to the bathroom sink and squirts a small pea sized amount of the greenish tooth paste onto his brush, then wets the brush under the running water. Castiel figures he should do the same, so he perfectly imitates Dean's movements, following closely what Dean is doing next from the corner of his eye. Dean starts brushing his teeth with the brush and the angel follows closely behind, still keeping an eye on the other mans every movement. Castiel finds himself gagging a bit at the strong peppermint flavor of the tooth paste, finding it unsuitable to his tastes. He continues brushing his teeth anyway, and is soon done. He follows as Dean spits the foamed tooth paste into the sink and gurgles the rest of it from his throat with water, spitting that too in to the sink. 

”I've only got my morning shift at Bobby's today in about...” Dean stops to look at his wrist watch, ”an hour or so. You comin' with? Or can I trust you not to wreck the house while I'm gone?” The slightly taller man looks at the angel with an expectant expression on his face. The angel hesitates and ponders about his answer, weighing both options in his mind before replying.

”I would like to come along.” He nods. ”I don't think there is much I could do here alone.” Castiel adds.

”Yeah, ok. We have around a half an hour before we have to leave.” Dean says as he walks towards the living room couch, eyes pinned on his shiny wrist watch: 6.05 am. He flops down on the soft cushions and begins flipping through various TV-channels, most of the showing only advertisements and commercials for various different products that Dean dismisses as completely useless. When he finds that nothing is on at this hour in the morning, he sighs and turns the TV off and leans his head backwards to rest on the back of the couch. Castiel sits neatly with his wings folded to the side and arms laying atop each other on his lap. 

”You know what, let's just go now.” Dean says as he stands up a bit too quickly, momentarily suffering from vertigo. Castiel rushes up to help the man keep his balance by grabbing the shoulder with the hand shaped burn scars. Dean flinches in surprise, the sensation of the angel touching the burn feeling somehow warm, tingly, and very comfortable. The weird feeling leaves confusing feelings and weird thoughts in Dean's head, but he elects to ignore them for the time being and shakes the angels hand off his shoulder, assuring the winged man that he's fine. ”I just stood up too quickly, it happens.” 

Dean puts on his usual leather jacket, throws on his shoes and grabs the Impala's keys from the key rack beside the front door. Castiel is crouched down low on the floor, tying a knot on his sneaker-like shoes. He opens the door and the sudden cold air creeping inside the house makes Castiel shiver slightly. Dean closes the door when he sees the angels reaction and sighs.

”You are going to need a jacket.” He says, disappears into his bedroom and comes out with a long beige trench coat. He throws the coat to Castiel and gets some sowing equipment from the bathroom, coming back out with a large box full of needles, thread and long light colored zippers. He begins cutting up the back of the trench coat, every now and then seeing if the cuts are in the correct spots and high enough for the angel's wings to fit through properly. Once the man has cut the fabric just right, he begins sowing long cream colored zippers to the back of the trench coat. It doesn't take Dean long to finish sowing up the jacket. He opens the zippers completely and tells Castiel to try it on. Once the long coat is on Castiel, his wings coming out from the holes in the back, Dean zips up the zippers at the back and checks the fit from the front. Deeming it good enough, Dean ushers Castiel to look at the fit in the mirror of his bedroom. Castiel examines the jacket from the front and the back and is surprised by how good Dean's handiwork looks.

”Why didn't I think of the zippers before.” Dean mutters to himself. ”I'm gonna have to go buy white and black or dark blue zippers for your other shirts, so I don't have to sow them up every time.” 

”It's missing something.” Castiel murmurs quietly, while staring at his reflection in the clean full body length mirror.

”Huh? What did you say?”

”It feels like the outfit is missing something.” Castiel repeats.

”Try this.” Dean says, handing the angel a long dark blue tie.

”What do you want me to do with this?” Castiel eyes the blue strip of cloth suspiciously.

”Tie it around your neck.”

”Around my neck? But isn't that dangerous?” 

”Not if you do it right.” Dean says, slowly proceeding to tie the tie around Castiel's neck, step by step explaining to the angel what he is doing so as not to alarm him and to teach him how to do it himself. Castiel follows the mans movements carefully, memorizing even the most minute of Dean's fingers movements. When Dean is done tying the tie, Castiel looks at his reflection again and smiles in approval. The tie makes him look very professional and somehow gives him more confidence.

”Do you like it?” Dean asks and Castiel nods once in reply. ”Ok good, let's go.” Dean mutters, glancing at his watch, 6.46 am. They might just make it in time if they leave now. Dean hurries Castiel, who no longer shivers in the cool morning air, out the door and into the car and speeds off towards Bobby's garage.

 

While Dean works outside fixing the various cars that are brought to the garage, Castiel helps Bobby with some paperwork and a few household chores such as vacuuming and others which Bobby's bad back prevents him from doing. The three eat lunch which Castiel and Bobby prepared; a macaroni and tuna casserole; together, and then continue working. Bobby hands Dean the previous months paycheck at the end of his shift and thanks Castiel for the job well done today.


	10. Chapter 9

For the next few weeks, Castiel learns to cook many different sorts of foods. He learns to sow, to clean, to wash the dishes, to use the machinery in Dean's home, Dean even teaches him how to change the tires and the oil in the Impala. Castiel often stays at Bobby's place when Dean works, helping the old man with household chores and small work related things such as paper work or filing. He doesn't make any money out of it but he enjoys helping Bobby out. Bobby, in return, cooks for Castiel and provides some kind of entertainment for him whilst Dean is gone. Castiel has found he has taken a liking to watching television, especially cartoons and comedy shows. 

As summer vacation nears, Dean works harder and longer, making nearly twice the money he makes normally. Sam is planning on visiting during the summer vacation with his long term girlfriend, Jessica, who Dean has only met once or twice before. Dean is working hard to make sure he can pay for Jessica and Sam's stay and to make them as comfortable as possible. 

”What about Cas?” Dean asks the next time Sam calls.

”Don't worry. She knows already.”

”Wait, you told her?!” Dean yells through the phone, half angry and half surprised.

”Well, yeah. He is still living there, right.” Sam says, more like stating the obvious than asking a serious question.

”Yeah. And?” 

”It's not like we can send him away with his powers gone, so I had to tell her. She would ask anyway and she'd be pissed if I kept secrets from her. You know how she is.” Dean has to sit and think for a while, before laughing slightly and answering to Sam on the other side of the line.

”Yeah, I guess you are right.” He takes a short break to stop the small chuckles daring to escape his lips, the memory of his last meeting with Jessica still fresh on his mind, and then continues to talk. ”So what time will you be here? Do I have to pick you up from somewhere?” 

”Oh, we'll be there around noon next Saturday. I have a car so don't worry.” Sam assures on the phone. Dean and Sam talk on the phone about Sam's college, Jessica, Castiel and work for a while longer, before hanging up and saying good night.

”Night, Sammy.”

”Good night Dean. Don't work yourself too hard.” 

”I won't. Night.” Dean says, ending the 45 minute phone call on his cell and stuffing the thin rectangular object into his jeans left pocket. It's already way past midnight and Castiel is sitting on the living room couch watching late night comedy shows on the television, flipping through a few different ones during a commercial break. Dean flops down on to the sofa next to Cas and wraps one arm around the back of the couch and the other around a cold bottle of beer he picks up from the coffee table before sitting down. 

”Anything on TV?” Dean asks.

”Not really. Although this one with the pizza man is interesting enough.” Castiel replies, switching to the channel with the show. Dean is half horrified and half proud of the angel when the show with the pizza man turns out to be porn. ”This confuses me greatly, though.” Dean stares blankly at the angel sitting next to him, his fingers accidentally brushing up against the feathers of the angels white wings. ”It is also, somehow, pleasing.” The angel states matter of factly, ignoring the weirded-out look he receives from the man beside him.

”You're watching porn?” Dean asks incredulously, mouth hanging open and his beer bottle tilted forwards so the beer nearly flows down on to the carpet from the open bottle top. 

”What is 'porn'?” The angel asks innocently, cocking his head to the side like a puppy, as he always does when he finds something either confusing or interesting or when he doesn't understand something.

”It's...” Dean struggles to find the words to describe it. Just then a loud slapping sound emits from the TV and woman moans on the television. ”It's that.” He points at the television, the palm of his hand open towards the ceiling and his fingers pointing slightly downwards towards the television, his eyes fixed on the angels face.

”Oh.”

”And we don't watch porn, or talk about watching porn, ok?” Dean says, prying the remote from the angels thin fingers and switching the television off. The angel looks down at his crotch and looks extremely confused. Dean throws his free hand to his forehead, slamming it hard enough for it to sting slightly, and covers his eyes.

”And now you have a boner. Great.” Dean moans in displeasure and takes a long drink from his beer. Castiel looks awkward, shifting his sitting position around, trying to rid his crotch of the strange sensations.

”It won't go away like that, Cas.” Dean utters, voice low and monotone, sounding more embarrassed than annoyed. 

”Then how?” The angel asks, still shifting awkwardly on the other side of the narrow couch.

”You need to jerk off.” Dean says, motioning with his free hand slightly, trying to get the angel to understand his point without having to go into further detail, already feeling embarrassed and flushed. ”But not here. In the bathroom or something.” Dean says and watches as the angel nods slightly and rises to walk into the bathroom. ”And lock the door behind you and clean up the mess afterwards!” Dean screams as the door closes quietly, the hinges creaking a little. Dean hears the lock turn and tilts his head back, laughing at how awkward their current situation is. The room is completely quiet and he can hear each and every movement the angel makes inside the bathroom, but doesn't care to drown them out with music. For some odd reason Dean actually wants to listen, wants to know what the angel is doing in there. A zipper is pulled down and Dean hears a rough, heavy material being heaved on the edge of the bath tub. He finds himself soon standing outside the bathroom door, listening intently to even the angels smallest movements. He can hear the man slide his underwear down and fumble around with his cock a little, before giving up and calling out to Dean:

”I have no idea what I'm supposed to do, Dean.” the winged man admits, hanging his head down, staring at the length in his hand. Dean takes a deep inaudible breath before saying something he never thought would ever come out of his mouth.

”Open the door, I'll show you.” Dean swallows and waits for Castiel's response. The angel walks over to the door and quickly unlocks it, opening the door and allowing Dean to enter the narrow, small space. Dean does his best not to look down at Castiel's crotch, but finds it hard to resist. He manages, somehow, to keep his eyes level with the angel's. With fast movements, he grabs a small white bottle from the lowest drawer below the sink and opens it. ”Open your hand.” Dean orders, and squirts a small amount of the clear lube onto Castiel's open hand. ”Now, rub that all over your... dick.” Dean chokes slightly at the word, finding it odd how he suddenly feels nervous and hot, although using that word has never before been an issue to him. Castiel does as Dean instructed and rubs the cold gel all over his erect cock, finding the feeling of his hand moving across the thin skin of his penis very good and arousing. Dean coughs and continues. ”Then you stroke it with your hands. You should be able to handle that on your own.” Dean says while exiting the bathroom through the small door frame, slamming the door behind him. Castiel begins stroking his cock slowly with one hand, experimenting with moving his fingers around in different ways. A pulsing pleasure heats in his cock as blood rushes to thicken it. Castiel cannot stop the moan from sounding off his lips. Dean's face flushes a deep dark red behind the bathroom door and he can feel his own arousal building. Dean quickly rushes into the confines of his own bedroom and jumps down on the bed, pulling the pillow over his head, trying to block out all the soft, sweet noises Castiel is making in the bathroom. He begins thinking about things he finds disgusting, things he hates such as flying to try and make his building erection go away. After a while he is able to reduce the dull throbbing into a nearly non existent soft pulse, but his face is still heated up in both embarrassment and arousal.

A couple of long moments later, Castiel walks out of the bathroom after having cleaned up the mess and flushed the toilet. He emerges with his cheeks still blushing, and a few trickles of sweat dripping down his forehead. The angels eyes are slightly glazed and he is breathing slowly to try and slow down his breathing. Dean stays in his own room until he finally hears the bathroom door close, then he speed walks into the kitchen and grabs more cold drinks from the fridge. He hands one to the angel, whose feathers are slightly ruffled, and hair a complete mess - How did the angel manage to mess up his hair? Castiel takes the freezing cold, brown bottle of beer without question and flips the cap open with his fingers. The angel gulps down nearly half in a single go, quickly finishing the remaining beer after taking a short break. 

”I will head to bed now.” Castiel says, his voice slightly strained, eyes avoiding Dean's gaze while walking past him, his wings gently touching the shoulder with the burn mark. Dean can feel Castiel shiver slightly at the soft touch of his feathers against his skin, and Dean shivers himself, his burn mark tingling at the feeling. The angel softly mutters 'excuse me' to Dean and slips past him, quickly heading to his room and closing the door behind him. Dean leans against the door frame of the kitchen and drinks his cold beer in peace, allowing his thoughts to gather themselves. He is not sure how long he stands there, but the sun has begun to rise when he finally heads to bed, his alarm clock set to ring at seven in the morning.

 

A few days afterwards, Castiel and Dean still feel a bit uncomfortable around each other, Dean especially, who keeps trying to avoid Castiel when he can. Castiel isn't sure why Dean is acting so evasive, but he decides on copying the mans behavior, thinking it the right thing to do. 

On Friday night, the day before Sam and his girlfriend Jessica arrive, Dean and Castiel have a night in at the house, drinking beer and playing a game of the board game 'Sorry!'. The awkward atmosphere has slightly lifted, and both are comfortably playing the game while sitting on the floor and drinking. Both laugh heartily when the other says something they find funny. Castiel ends up winning the game very fast, leaving Dean well behind, and they move on to watching television again. Watching late night TV has become somewhat of a tradition with them. Each night, they sit down on the couch, perhaps drink a beer or two, and watch various different TV-shows. Dean always stops the channel surfing when Dr. Sexy MD is on and Castiel still cannot understand why the other man enjoys the show so much. Dean called it his 'guilty pleasure' or something. Castiel has no idea what that means. 

Dean and Castiel place themselves on the couch so close to each other their shoulders are nearly touching as Dean begins flipping through the different channels, stopping to watch the new episode of his favorite TV-show. Castiel ignores the moving picture on the television and concentrates his attention on Dean, who is slouched forward, arms resting on his knees, eyes glued on the television screen. The angel momentarily looks at the TV-screen: there are two people, both in long white coats, the other a woman and the other a tall man. Their lips are locked together and their hands are running all over each others bodies. Castiel understands they are kissing, and he gets the weird urge to kiss Dean all of a sudden. He withholds his urges for now, opting instead to watch Dean as he stares intently at the people moving on TV.

Tonight's heart wrenching, or gut wrenching if you ask Castiel, episode of Dr. Sexy MD ends and Dean allows the angel to change the channel. Instead of changing the channel, though, Castiel places the remote on the small wooden coffee table and turns towards Dean. The man looks at him, his eyebrows cocked downwards in a questioning glance, and then Castiel goes for it. He bends forwards slowly, and presses his slightly chapped lips against Dean's plump, soft ones. Dean's eyes widen in surprise, but he makes no attempt to push the angel off of him. The man leans into the soft kiss, destroying every expectation Castiel had: he was sure Dean would push him off faster than he could count. The angel reaches his arms up to Dean's face, cupping the mans warm cheeks and drawing slow circles with the tips of his fingers. Dean throws an arm around the angels neck, allowing his other hand to slowly caress the tops of the angels long, sensitive wings. Castiel shudders under Dean's gentle touch and kisses him harder, licking the mans lips with his tongue. Dean parts his lips just enough to allow the angels tongue to slip into his mouth. They rub their tongues together, but soon have to pull apart to breath in some very welcome oxygen. Castiel leans in for another kiss, grabbing Dean's head from the back and pulling his face in closer to his own. Dean pants audibly the next time Castiel withdraws from the kiss. The mans cheeks are flushed and his eyes are glazed and his look slightly confused. The hair in the back of his head is a mess, and his button up top is hanging on his shoulders, his t-shirt slightly lifted, revealing some of his tan, toned skin. Castiel reaches his hand to Dean's, who has slid downwards on the couch so he is now positioned below the angel, stomach and hesitantly touches the smooth skin peaking from underneath the t-shirt. Dean allows the winged man's fingers to explore his skin and begins to slowly massage the connecting point of Castiel's wings and his lean back. The quiet gasp that emits from Castiel's mouth is filled with desire and pleasure. 

”Dean.” The angel moans quietly, reaching in for another kiss, his hands working up the light colored t-shirt of the man below him. The man kisses Castiel back hungrily, his hands snaking down Castiel's back towards his hips. Dean stops his hands when he reaches the angels protruding hip bones and caresses them through the winged creatures loose clothing. When Castiel stops the kiss, the men stare at each other, both panting slightly and their faces flushed a deep, pink-ish red. Dean is the first to move. He coughs into his balled up fist and begins to push himself up from the cushions onto his elbow. Castiel jumps off of Dean, and stands up, straightening the front of his clothes with his hands. Neither man says a word as they start going through their nightly routines, such as brushing their teeth. As Dean gurgles water to wash away the strong flavor of peppermint toothpaste, Castiel looks at his Adam's apple, bobbing up and down, from the corner of his eye, longing to touch and lick it. Where he got these kinds of urges, Castiel isn't sure.

 

As the next day dawns, Dean is up and at it since early on in the morning. He washes clothes, vacuums the floors, wipes the surfaces and makes a quick breakfast of toasted bread with jam for both himself and Castiel, who, at the smell of food, groggily marches into the kitchen. After eating quickly, he orders Castiel to wash the dishes while he goes out to the grocery store to make sure they have enough to eat for the weekend. Castiel obliges, cleaning the dishes under warm, running water, allowing the soap to bubble up nicely. 

Once Dean returns and Castiel has managed to wash the dishes and place them up to dry, the angel helps Dean with putting away the groceries, placing them wherever Dean says:

”The meats go on the second shelf.” 

Once the men are finished with the groceries, Dean returns to cleaning some of the house. He finishes up the bathroom, cleaning the already surprisingly clean toilet until it is pristine, and rubbing off the scum in the bath tub. Castiel offers to help, but he merely gets a grumpy response to stay out of the other's way, so Castiel takes a seat in a chair next to a bookshelf and begins reading a random book he picked out. Reading has become a favorite pastime of Castiel's, especially when there's nothing else to do. If Dean is away at work and Bobby is unable to take him in for the time, then he sits back at Dean's place, reading various books off the full shelves. This is one of the last books he has to read before finishing the entire shelf.

It is only 9.48 am when they are both done, Dean with cleaning and Castiel with reading the book in his hands. Dean wipes a bit of sweat off his brow and returns the cleaning supplies to their respectful places, then hops into the bathroom to take a quick shower. He orders Castiel to do the same once he emerges from the bathroom, wearing only a towel on his muscular hips. Castiel obeys, setting the book back into its place in the shelf before going into the bathroom, his eyes glued on Dean's toned back, more urges rising to his head which he has to suppress. 

Castiel quickly undresses, pulling down the zippers in the back of his shirts down and laying them in a neat pile on top of the toilet seat. He steps in the bath tub, tucks his wings in and closes the shower curtain before turning the faucet. Cool water begins dripping from the shower head, too cold for Castiel to enjoy, but he doesn't bother turning the water up any warmer. The cold water helps him rid his mind of the thoughts running through his head right now.

The angels shower is brief. He washes his hair with shampoo, lathering the stuff well on top of his head and rinsing it off quickly, hands massaging the top of his head at the same time. He caresses the soap into his body, making sure to clean his armpits and other strategic places well, and washes off the bubbles with the cold water. He grabs his towel from the towel rack behind the shower curtain and begins patting himself dry with it, leaving his hair for last. He gets dressed, changing into a new pair of underwear Dean was kind enough to buy him from the shop, and throws the old pair into the basket with the dirty clothes. He then ruffles his hair with the towel before combing it down, slowly and carefully, trying not to pull on any of the large knots in it. 

Castiel throws his towel to dry on the towel rack and leaves the bathroom, fully clothed, hair still slightly damp. Dean is working on something in the kitchen, a sweet, spicy aroma circling the hallway. Castiel steps in behind Dean and looks over his shoulder at what the man is doing. Dean isn't even startled by the angels sudden presence, he just shrugs his shoulders and tells the other to help him out with the meal. Castiel steps to the side and awaits instructions. Dean begins throwing bags of spices his way, ordering him to put a certain amount of each into the large stone mortar off to the side of the counter. Castiel takes a teaspoon and a tablespoon and begins measuring the spices and herbs into the mortar according to Dean's instructions. He then crushes the spices into a fine powder, while Dean is oiling what seems like a whole turkey. When the spices and herbs are mixed in together, a brownish and greenish powder, the angel hands the mortar to Dean, who begins rubbing the mixture onto the shiny, oiled skin of the turkey. Once that is done, he stuffs a thermometer into the turkey's middle and puts it in the oven in a large pan. Dean sets a timer for two hours and washes his hands in the sink with some of the dish washing liquid before drying them off and running his fingers through his hair. 

”Beer?” He asks the angel, who shakes his head and moves away from the fridge door when Dean opens it to grab himself a bottle of the stuff. ”Ok, your loss.”

Dean and Castiel spend the next two hours or so waiting for Sam and Jessica to arrive. The door bell and the timer on the oven both ring simultaneously at exactly 12.25 pm.


	11. Chapter 10

Dean asks Castiel to go open the door while he checks on the turkey cooking away in the oven. Castiel rushes to the front door and unlocks it, slowly opening it to see who is outside. He tucks his wings behind his back so they aren't visible through the small crack in the door. To his delight, Sam and Jessica are standing there hand in hand, smiling widely. Castiel opens the door fully and invites them in after a round of 'hello's' and 'nice to meet you's'. Jessica stares at his wings in awe and asks to touch them. Castiel hesitates slightly but allows her to feel them quickly. Jessica reaches her hand to touch the smooth, straight feathers and pets them for a while, before giggling and extending an arm for Castiel to shake.

”I'm Jessica. Sam's girlfriend. It's very nice to meet you...” Jessica pauses, ”Castiel, wasn't it?” she smiles as Castiel nods and shakes her extended hand. ”Sam's told me about you.” 

”What has he told you about me?” Castiel questions.

”Nothing much. Just that you used to be a statue. I had a hard time believing it at first, but he actually showed me footage on his camera.” Dean peeks his head through the opening to the kitchen.

”Since when did Sam have time to take a video?” He asks, glaring at Sam in suspicion.

”He's begun running around with it since I gave it to him last year.” Jessica smiles and nods towards the camera hanging off of Sam's neck. Sam blushes and excuses himself in to the bathroom. ”I'm guessing he took a few videos during his last visit.” She smiles.

Sam had visited Dean during his winter break when Castiel was still mostly looking for Lucifer. The angel had visited once during that time, which was probably when Sam had managed to take a video of him flying around, above Dean's home. Although the video had been quite convincing, it took a lot of explaining for Sam to finally get Jessica to believe him, and although she had been skeptical, she decided to stay open minded and see for herself when they got to Dean's place before placing her doubts on the table. She was right to do so too, because seeing Castiel in real life eradicated her doubts completely.

When Dean takes the turkey out of the oven the next minute, the smell that fills the room is heavenly. The sweet yet clearly spicy aroma filling all four people's nostrils is absolutely magnificent, and for a second they all take in the smell.

”Did you order catering or something, Dean?” Sam says jokingly, laughing at the glare Dean gives him afterwards. ”Just kidding. It smells absolutely amazing, Dean. When did you learn to cook?” Dean doesn't answer, he just places the turkey on the stove top and moves the pot of the mashed potatoes from the stove top and into the dining room. He does the same with the steamed vegetables sitting next to the stove and lastly brings in the turkey and places it right in the middle of the six chaired dining table. Castiel helps Dean set the table while Jessica and Sam take their luggage into the large guest bedroom beside Castiel's. Jessica and Sam return, holding hands and giggling together and sit down at the dining table next to each other. Dean and Castiel take a seat opposite of them. Dean begins slicing the turkey, placing equal sized slices on each person's plate, before pouring everyone some white wine to drink. 

”This is all so nice, thank you Dean.” Jessica says politely and flashes Dean a heart warming smile, her eyes soft and happy. 

”No problem.” Dean says, glancing towards Sam as if to say something. Sam looks at Dean, first in apprehension, then he seems to remember something, and begins digging something from his pockets. He finds what he is looking for and discreetly passes it to Dean from under the table. Castiel notices this, but Jessica, who is busy placing herself and Sam a large helping of the creamy mashed potatoes, doesn't seem to notice a thing. Castiel shrugs the exchange off as something the brothers do, remaining suspicious of the small dark box Dean quickly throws in his pockets. 

Dean, Sam, Castiel and Jessica all eat their lunch in peace, the sun shining through the thin curtains in the windows, illuminating the room with a faint greenish glow. They begin chatting about their daily lives, Jessica and Sam talking about college and Dean telling them about work. Castiel remains quiet for most of the conversations, only speaking when someone asks him something. When everyone has eaten their fill, Dean takes everyone's forks, knifes and plates and returns to the kitchen. Castiel stays at the table with Sam and Jessica, who begin asking him questions about living with Dean in hushed tones.

”Well, I am never bored.” Castiel answers to Jessica's question, who giggles at the answer. Sam and Jessica exchange meaningful looks and pry for more answers.

”So, anything interesting happen with the two of you?” Sam asks with a mischievous smirk on his face.

”Well...” Castiel thinks back to their small make out session on the couch last night, his cheeks blushing a little. Thankfully neither Sam nor Jessica notices the color change in his cheeks. ”Define interesting.” Castiel shoots back.

”You know, something interesting.” Jessica giggles and gives Castiel a small wink. Castiel doesn't have the time to answer when Dean already returns from the kitchen with his hands full of plates and forks. The plates are all carrying a small helping of a dark, fragrant chocolate dessert. The middle of the triangle shaped slice is oozing slowly on to the plate, and the small pile of cream with a mint leaf on the top is melting and infusing with the chocolate. Dean distributes the plates among the four, carefully placing Jessica's plate in front of her at a certain angle, and then hands everyone a spoon. Sam stares at the mud cake slice in awe, completely taken aback by the fact that his brother can cook other than macaroni and cheese. Castiel is the first to take a bite of the soft chocolate cake, allowing the smooth piece to disintegrate on his tongue and the flavor to fill his mouth. He smiles and takes another piece, and the rest of the three join in. Dean begins asking Sam about him and Jessica, and their plans for the future. Sam smiles awkwardly and refrains from answering his elder brothers question, glancing nervously towards Jessica's dessert. 

Jessica finishes her dessert and brushes her long, straight blonde hair behind her shoulder with one swell spook of her hand. She thanks Dean for the meal and looks down at her dessert plate, gasping slightly. The napkin holding the chocolate mud cake has something round beneath it. She moves the napkin to the side and and exclaims loudly, bringing her hands to cover her mouth and her eyes to meet Sam's, who has already bent down on the ground on one knee. 

”Jess.” Sam begins, clearing his throat quickly as he grabs the silver ring from the plate. ”We've been together for a while now,” he says nervously, his voice shaking, ”and I really want to spend the rest of my life with you.” Dean looks at Sam quietly, an incredulous smile forming on his face. He rolls his eyes. Who knew his younger brother could be so cheesy? ”Will you marry me?” Sam finally asks, and offers the ring to Jessica. Jessica is unable to do much more than nod her head as a 'yes' and give her hand to Sam for him to put the ring on. Her other hand is still covering her gaping mouth and her eyes are round with surprise. Sam hesitates before putting the ring on and confirms: ”Is that a yes?” 

”Yes!” Jessica manages, and allows Sam to slip the perfectly fitting silver ring into her left hand's ring finger. Sam stands up and Jessica pulls him into a deep hug. Castiel looks questioningly at Dean.

”They just got engaged.” Dean whispers in the angels ear, ”That means they're going to spend the 'rest of their lives' together and get married.” Marriage is a term Castiel has heard before, so he nods and pretends to understand why such a small thing as a ring would cause so much excitement. ”Congratulations Sammy.” Dean says beaming at his younger brother, pride glowing in his eyes. ”You couldn't have been luckier, getting a girl like Jess here.” He smiles mischievously. Sam gives him a look that Castiel has heard Dean call Sam's 'bitch face', but then returns to smiling widely at his much shorter girlfriend hugging him tightly.

”Congratulations.” Castiel repeats what Dean said, and smiles at the two from accross the table. 

”Thank you.” Jessica and Sam say happily in unison as they sit back down. 

”It's time to bring out the celebratory wine.” Dean grins and heads to the kitchen to fetch an expensive looking bottle of white wine. He pours everyone a glass of the wine, then holds a short and brief speech: ”To the happy couple, yadda-yadda, blaa blaa, congratulations and all that.” Dean jokes. Sam and Jessica giggle a little together. ”Let's raise a toast to Sam and Jess.” Dean says, bringing his glass up towards the center of the table. Sam and Jessica do the same and Castiel joins in moments later with his own glass. They cling their glasses together and all take a sip of the wine. They finish off the rest of the mud cake that Dean brought into the dining room and talk about what will happen next. Jessica is very excited about beginning wedding planning with her friends back at the university, and Sam is already begging Dean to be his best man. Dean, of course, accepts without any hesitation. Sam also invites Castiel to be at the wedding as their 'guardian angel', joking that he can be a decoration at the reception hall with those wings of his. Castiel graciously accepts, fearing it could be rude to decline, even though he doesn't quite understand what Sam is getting at. Dean promises to explain it to him later, when everyone else has gone to sleep later that day.

They all finish lunch around 3 pm, and Dean and the angel begin clearing up the table, placing the left over foods into the refrigerator. Sam and Jessica decide to go visit the graveyard and pay their respects to Sam and Dean's parents. Dean gives his younger, but taller brother a spare key to the house he's been meaning to give for a while and waves them goodbye as they exit through the door. Dean and Castiel are left alone in the house to clear up the rest of the dishes.

What happened last night is still fresh on both men's minds. They keep glancing back at each other in slight embarrassment, the silence surrounding them tense and awkward. Dean finishes up in the kitchen and goes to sit at the small laptop in the corner of his living room. Castiel feels weird just standing there, so he moves to the small arm chair in the living room and sits down, looking around the house, trying to think of something to do. He can't think of anything, though. He's read nearly every book in the bookshelf, and he is not in a reading mood right now, the house is already pristine clean and there's not even a speck of dust anywhere he could wipe off, and there is nothing on TV at this hour during the day, he's learned that. Thankfully for Castiel, Dean breaks the silence between them.

”I wonder where Lucifer is and what he's up to.” Castiel raises his head to face Dean's glance from across the room. ”I almost forgot about that son of a bitch.” He says with spite.

”I don't know.” Castiel answers, his quiet voice gruff and deep. The angel clears his throat and adjusts the wings behind his back so they're pointing to the side, his legs hanging on top of the arm rest. ”Perhaps we should go look for him.” Castiel suggests.

”How would we find him? There's been no sign of him so far, and you've lost your powers.”

”I can still fly with my wings.”

”Have you tried?” Castiel looks down.

”Well, no.” he utters.

”Yeah, so there's no point in trying right now either. We wouldn't even know where to start looking for him.” Dean sighs as he flips the laptop lid down and lands on the couch, throwing his feet up on the coffee table. Castiel sighs in frustration and begins twiddling his thumbs.

”Why did you bring him up in the first place if we aren't going to do anything about him?” The angel asks clearly annoyed by the man slouching on the couch. Dean rolls his eyes.

”Never mind.” The man crosses his arms across his chest and stares at the black television screen. The angel goes to take a seat next to him on the couch, staring intensely at the other man. Dean can feel Castiel's gaze bury itself in his back, and he shudders, his mind filling with thoughts of last night. He licks his bottom lip with his tongue and looks away from the TV-screen, avoiding looking at the angel. Castiel inches himself closer to Dean, so their legs and shoulders are touching. 

”What are you doing, Cas?” Dean blurts out, when Castiel touches the back of his neck with his fingers. Castiel begins slithering his arm around Dean's shoulder, turning the man slightly towards him. 

”Why argue, when we can continue what we were doing last night?” Castiel whispers into Dean's ear, copying the behavior of a male character in last nights Dr. Sexy MD. Dean notices this and huffs and mutters under his breath.

”You need to stop watching TV.” Castiel ignores Dean and leans forward so their foreheads nearly touch. Dean stares right into Castiel's deep blue eyes, unblinking. He licks his bottom lip again, then suddenly pulls the angel into a kiss by grabbing the front of the others button up shirt. Castiel kisses right back and moves his other hand to Dean's hip. Dean grabs the angels sides and begins slowly moving his hands up and down the angels smooth curves. The man moves his hands to Castiel's chest and begins untying the blue tie, which Castiel has done backwards, hanging around the angels neck. He throws the tie on the coffee table and starts unbuttoning the collar shirt. Castiel lifts Dean's shirt up, exposing the smooth muscles of Dean's toned abdomen, and begins running his fingers around the soft skin. Dean allows his hands to wander around Castiel's velvety skin, letting the tips of his fingers explore every inch of the angels stomach and back. Castiel's hands inch lower, stopping at the waist of Dean's jeans, tugging at the leather belt around the mans lean waist. Dean moans when he feels his belt being undone, and a chill of pleasure is sent coursing through his spine. He bites his lip. 

Castiel undoes the buttons on Dean's jeans and caresses the bulge on Dean's front through the mans underwear. Dean shivers, and continues his efforts to rid the angel of his belt as well. Dean manages to undo the buckle and pull the belt off in one swift move. The man moves on to undo the button and zipper holding the black dress pants up, allowing them to slide down so they are hanging off the mans hips at an angle. Castiel takes a hold of the waist of Dean's jeans and starts pulling them off the mans hips, low enough that the bulge in the mans pants is completely uncovered by the harsh denim. Castiel kisses Dean with quite a lot of force, pushing the slightly taller man below him on the couch. Dean is completely lost in the moment, his mind is completely blank and the shivers of pleasure running through his body are making him feel light headed. He is brought out of his stupor when Castiel begins drawing his boxers down with his cold fingers.

”Whoa, Cas!” Dean moans, breaking the kiss and bringing one hand to grab Castiel's left wrist. 

”What is it?” Castiel asks, tilting his head, confused. ”Is this not good?” He asks worriedly, cocking his eyebrows so they point upward, making his eyes look at Dean in concern.

”Uh...” Dean mutters, but is unable to form words. He doesn't want the angel to stop, but he knows Jessica and Sam will be back at some point, and he has never done something like this with another man. ”What about Sam and Jess. They'll be back at some point.” Dean lets out, his voice unsure and low.

”They only just left. I doubt they will be back very soon. The drive to the graveyard is not very short.” Castiel explains, alleviating some of Dean's worries. Dean bites his lip and looks away from the angel, thinking about their current situation to himself, finally shrugging his doubts off. He is enjoying himself too much to allow what they were doing to stop.

”Yeah, ok, never mind.” He says. ”Just continue.” Dean pulls Castiel back into the kiss and starts wrenching the angels trousers down to the mans knees. Castiel starts sliding Dean's boxers down again, allowing his finger tips to push down on the mans skin. The angel leaves the boxers of the man below him to hang on his hips just below the mans half erect dick. Castiel licks his fingers and wraps them carefully around Dean's cock, his thumb caressing the tip of the still soft penis. Dean throws his head back and suppresses a groan from escaping his lips and returns to pulling the angels boxers off, finally exposing the hard cock underneath them. Dean also quickly licks his fingers and then entwines them around the angels cock, sending a pulse of pleasure up the angels spine. Dean's other hand begins caressing the connection point of Castiel's wings, bringing more pleasure to the angel. Castiel starts stroking Dean's cock with slow movements of his wrist. He can feel the mans dick harden under his touch, and also feels his own penis spring to life under the careful wrap of Dean's warm fingers. Dean starts moving his hand too, gently squeezing the thick member now pulsing with pleasure. Castiel lets out a moan and closes his eyes, dwelling in the building feeling. Dean begins panting loudly, gasps of pleasure escaping his plump lips. Castiel leans in to kiss those lips again, biting down gently on the mans bottom lip, erupting a moan from the other man. 

”Cas!” Dean breathes heavily, groaning between the short kisses Castiel keeps laying on him. His built up pleasure is threatening to overflow, as is Castiel's, who is now slouched very close to Dean, holding himself up with his other hand. The pleasure Castiel is feeling at the moment is much greater than when he did this with his own hand, and he is completely undone. The angel cannot believe this kind of pleasure could be possible, and he never wants the moment to pass. 

As their orgasms build, the men begin stroking each other faster. Dean brings his hand to caress the angels nipples, now hardened. The men have to stop kissing in order to get decent breaths in. Dean throws his head back in ecstasy as he comes, moaning the angels name softly, and letting out a soft whimper. The angel comes quickly after, spilling himself on Dean's stomach and fingers. He nearly collapses on top of Dean, but manages just and just to throw himself a little to the side, landing next to Dean on the couch. Both men lay there, staring at the ceiling and panting heavily. Dean's mind is still swimming in the heat of what they just did, his cheeks feel hot and his body exhausted. Castiel feels the same.

When Dean finally begins moving, covering his head in embarrassment, Castiel stirs too, and both men head to the bathroom to clean up. Dean closes the door in front of Castiel's nose, telling him to wait outside as he cleans himself up first. Castiel obeys and waits, feeling the unfamiliar wetness still on his cock, listening to the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. When Dean exits, his pants are back on, his belt back in place and his shirt pulled down to cover his stomach. His eyes are still slightly glazed and cheeks still red. He walks past Castiel and allows him to enter the bathroom. 

In the bathroom, Castiel cleans himself off with water and dries himself on his towel. He then proceeds to pull his pants back up and button the shirt back up. Lastly he attempts combing his hair back to what it looked like before, leaving it looking wind ruffled and still a bit messy. 

Castiel exits the bathroom just in time to hear the front door's lock twist open. Sam and Jessica enter the house again, all smiles. Jessica is hanging on Sam's other arm, giving her, now soon to be husband, a wide toothy grin, which Sam returns with a laugh. Both are holding a paper bag full of arts and crafts items in their free hands which they got from a couple art stores on their way back from the cemetery. They stop when they see Castiel and Dean, Dean standing off to the side, straightening out his clothes and hair, red still creeping up on his face and hair flying in all directions atop his head. The couple stares at the two disheveled men with wide eyes, before blinking and glancing at each other, withholding a laugh. Dean looks rather embarrassed, so he hides his head and walks past them, never lifting his eyes to face his younger brother and his fiance, into his bedroom, slamming the door closed in front of them. Castiel stands still looking everywhere but at Sam or Jessica.

”Did we interrupt something?” Sam asks, mouth wide in a knowing grin. Castiel rubs the back of his head.

”Umm... No.” He whispers, his voice barely audible. Castiel walks off into his own room, closing the door behind him, allowing it to make a loud sound upon closing. Sam and Jessica whisper to themselves and giggle together before heading to their own bedroom to put away the things they brought back from the shops.


	12. chapter 11

The weekend spent with Sam and Jessica goes by in a hurry. They spend the entire weekend planning the wedding, deciding guests, locations, decorations and timings. They already manage to set the date for their wedding for the end of next summer at the small church in the vicinity of Dean's house. They called the new pastor, who happened to have an opening at the end of the following summer. All that is left to do is finish the paperwork at the church. Before Jessica and Sam go back home, they go along with Dean and Castiel and take a trip to the church in two cars and finish the paperwork with the new pastor, who is more than happy to hold their ceremony. Sam is sad their wedding wont be held by Pastor Jim, but is glad they can at least hold their wedding at his childhood church. Once the date has been set and the paperwork been done, Sam and Jessica bid Dean and Castiel farewell and head back to their house near their college. Dean and Castiel hop in the car and head to a small lake off in the mountains. Dean promised to take Castiel, after Sam told the angel about the spot. 

On the drive to the lake, Dean plays old rock music and lets it blast loud from the stereos. He sings along very off key and sways gently to the slower songs. Castiel hums along to a few songs he already knows, such as ”Hey Jude”, which is one of Dean's favorite slow songs. Castiel likes the song too, finding its simple melody and few instruments soothing and calming. He knows the most of the lyrics, so he sings along when he can, joining in on Dean's soft singing. Castiel enjoys the way Dean's voice sounds when he sings this song. It seems so loving and peaceful, somehow. 

When the Impala reaches the end of the bumpy dirt road, Dean stops the car and steps out, turning the key to lock the door behind him. Castiel gets out as well, minding his wings when exiting through the door. Dean grabs a small basket full of food from the trunk of the shiny car, then leads Castiel down a narrow forest path. The sun is shining high up in the sky, painting dark shadows on the ground. The winding path leading up to the lake, which is not quite yet visible behind the tall hills, is shaded by the shadows of the trees and their leaves. The plants on the way to the lake are colorful and the flowers are in full bloom, sending a sweet fragrance in the air. 

Castiel takes a deep breath of the fresh mountain air and stretches his limbs and wings. Dean, who is walking in front of him, stops to look down towards their small town from a ledge near the small road, admiring the beautiful view. Castiel looks at the scenery in front of him, awed by the beauty of summer, the colors and the brightness of everything. The men stay there, taking a small breather before continuing up the path towards the now visible, gleaming lake.

The lake is a very small, very clear watered shallow lake. Castiel can clearly see the fish that are swimming below the surface, and the water plants attached to the bottom that are swaying along with the movement of the waves. Dean walks to a small clearing next to the lake otherwise surrounded by tall pine trees and hills, and lays down a white blanket for the men to sit on. The man sits down on it and lays the basket in the middle, urging Castiel to sit down as well. Castiel admires the fish in the water for a moment longer, before sitting down next to Dean, who is laying out the contents of the wooden basket. The angel takes a moment to look at his surroundings. He takes in every little detail, the shapes on the bark of the nearest tree, the different types of flowers he sees, the mix of fresh green pine cones and the old brown ones on the ground and the way Dean's forehead glistens with a few sweat drops from the long walk up the sloping hill and the scorching heat of the summer day. Castiel smiles to himself as he watches Dean organizing the different assortments of food on the blanket, fascinated by the way the mans fingers work. Dean notices Castiel staring and asks him to stop:

”Stop that, you're distracting me.” Dean's tone is only half serious, the rest of his voice colored with amusement. Castiel stops staring at Dean, and begins looking towards the lake again instead. He notes the way the little fish jump out from the water and fall back in an arc, the small water droplets flying in all directions from the impact of the fish causing the surface of the water to ripple. 

When Dean is finished with laying out the foods, he pours himself and Castiel a small glass of apple juice bought from the local markets down in the small town. Castiel graciously accepts the drink and gulps half of it down in one go, enjoying the fresh taste of apples, which he has taken a liking to. Dean sips his drink, taking a few gulps of it before grabbing a small sandwich from a napkin in the center of the sheet the men are sitting on. Castiel grabs a green apple from inside the wooden basket and begins chomping down on it, while Dean eats his ham and salad sandwich. They sit in silence, listening to the sounds of the nature around them: the melodic singing of the birds, the slosh of the water against the shore, and the sound of the wind rustling the leaves and pine needles in the trees. The smell of the fresh plants and sweet flowers mixes with that of the food and creates a pleasant fragrance in the air. Castiel slowly moves himself closer to Dean and wraps his other wing around the man, his feathers gently touching the mans bare hand and the sleeve of his t-shirt. Dean can feel the burn mark on his shoulder tingle again. He has learned to enjoy the feeling, no longer hesitant of his own feelings towards the angel. To be honest, Dean hasn't really thought about his relationship with Castiel, it was just something he fell into. Right now, it all feels so natural, he doesn't bother himself with thinking about it, he just enjoys the moment.

Castiel and Dean finish eating their savory dishes, leaving only the cores of the apples left on the napkin, and they move on to tasting the chocolates Sam and Jessica gave to Dean at the end of their weekend. The soft, Belgian truffles melt in their mouths and fill their senses with an amazing, sweet flavor. Castiel takes an opportunity to steal a bite from the small truffle in Dean's hand, which causes Dean to playfully nudge him in the shoulder. The next truffle Castiel picks up, he decides to feed to the man next to him, who accepts it without argument and stuffs it into his mouth. Dean smiles, mouth full of chocolate, cheeks full like a hamsters and Castiel laughs a hearty, low laugh. Dean gulps down the mouthful of truffles and Castiel watches as his Adams apple bobs up and down. The angel reaches over and kisses Dean in the neck, just below his jaw line. Dean leans away from the kiss.

”That tickles, Cas!” He says with a smile when he throws his hand to the spot Castiel just kissed, rubbing at it softly. Castiel looks at Dean fiendishly and smiles in return, his eyes playful and tongue licking his upper lip, before grabbing Dean's face with his hands and turning it so he can kiss the man on the mouth. The flavor of the chocolate truffles the men just ate still lingers in Dean's mouth, and Castiel kisses the man hungrily, rubbing his tongue against the other mans. Dean responds to the kiss with a mischievous bite to the angels lower lip, and moves his hands around Castiel's waist, pulling the angel closer to him. Castiel wraps his fingers in Dean's hair, tugging at the mans t-shirt with his free hand. Dean takes his opportunity to tip Castiel on the ground on his back. He climbs on top of the angel, whose wings are spread wide around him, curling upwards slightly, creating a u-shape around Dean and himself. Castiel lets his wings creep up closer to each other, so close the tips of his wings are touching, encasing him and Dean within their shade. 

Dean supports himself up on his arms and Castiel lifts himself up on his elbows, lowering his wings so they are tightly wrapped around Dean and him. Dean allows the warm feathers to tickle his back while he kisses the angel on the neck, trailing his kisses to Castiel's protruding collar bone. Castiel enjoys the feeling and leans into Dean's kisses, rubbing gently at the man's sides in return, lifting the mans thin t-shirt up with his hands. Dean begins kissing the angels neck upwards again, this time stopping his last kiss at the angels soft, warm cheek, before gently pecking the angels lips, then withdrawing from the kiss. Castiel opens his wings, releasing his hold on Dean and allows the man to climb off of him. Dean sits back down next to the angel, leaning against the mans large, soft wings. Castiel straightens himself up into a sitting position before wrapping his wing tighter around Dean and leaning his head to rest on the shoulder where the hand print shaped burn mark lies. Dean allows himself to lean his head against Castiel's, snuggling close to the angel. They watch the landscape around them quietly together, enjoying the fresh summer breeze and the beautiful sights and smells of the mountain air. They don't even notice the dark clouds fast approaching in the sky behind them.

When the first drop of rain hits Dean's forehead, he looks up at the sky. The dark clouds are circling overhead, and the pace at which the water drops from them is picking up. Before they know it, it's raining buckets and both Dean and the angel are drenched when they finally manage to find a somewhat dry spot to stand in below a tree. Dean is glad that it's not thundering right now. Castiel and Dean huddle up under the tree until the worst of the rain passes. Both of their clothes are soaked to the core, completely wet, and they are shivering from the cool air that follows the short lasting rain. The water in the lake is warmer than the air around them, so they choose to strip their clothing and leave them to dry on a few rocks near the lake while they take a dip in the warm water. 

Dean is the first to jump in the water. He lowers himself first knee deep into the shallow water, then finds a spot where the bottom of the lake is deep enough for him to jump, and jumps feet first into the warm water, scaring away the nearby fish. Castiel follows quickly behind, allowing the warm water to warm him up. Dean dives down into the water, wetting his hair completely. He comes up and throws his head back, allowing his hair to flick water droplets behind him. Castiel submerges himself completely, letting his wings soak in the warm liquid. When he rises, he shakes his wings dry like a dog, splashing water onto Dean, who covers his face with his hands. When Dean lowers his hands, he swings them hard towards Castiel at the surface of the water and splashes the angel with it, hitting him square in the face. Castiel splashes back, succeeding only in missing Dean completely with the spray of water. Castiel tries again, this time swinging hard with his wing, but Dean dives down, avoiding the massive wave Castiel causes with his large wings. When the man comes up, he moves backwards with the wave and laughs, before diving down again and swimming towards Castiel. Castiel jumps back before Dean manages to pull on his leg and reaches down to pull the man up to the surface. The angel, not familiar with the concept of swimming, dreads through the water to a nearby formation of rocks and sits down on one of the submerged rocks, inviting Dean to sit with him. Just as Dean is beginning to sit down next to Castiel, the angel pulls him on his lap. 

Dean tries to hide his embarrassment when he feels their naked skin touch by looking away from Castiel. Castiel places his hands on the mans cheeks and pulls him into a deep, passionate kiss, causing the man to fall closer to the angels body. Castiel feels Dean's muscular legs tense slightly before relaxing and falling down to rest on top of his own legs. Dean starts running his hands around Castiel's chest, arousing interest in the angels cock. Dean feels Castiel's cock pushing on his thigh and feels his own dick filling with blood. Castiel lifts Dean up momentarily and replaces him on his lap, so that the mans legs are spread on both sides of the angels hips. Their dicks rub together when Castiel pulls Dean closer to him, and they both moan when the movement sends chills down their spines. Their embrace becomes very heated in a matter of seconds, as they begin caressing each others nude bodies, Dean playing with the angels nipples, and Castiel massaging the mans lower back, fingers slowly making their way towards Dean's round ass. Dean moans loudly when Castiel's hands reach his toned behind, rubbing gently at the soft skin. Dean moves his own hands down to Castiel's lower abdomen, and he hesitantly takes hold of the angels hardening length and begins stroking it up and down. A gasp emits from the angels lips.

”Wait, Dean.” Castiel moans, and stops the mans hands from moving with his own.

”What?” Dean asks, releasing his grip and withdrawing his hands back. 

”I want to do this properly.” Castiel whispers. Dean cocks his eyebrows in a questioning gaze and looks at the angel incredulously.

”Properly?” 

”Yes. I wish to have intercourse.” Dean blinks at the way the angel says that, completely unashamed or embarrassed. Dean stares at the angel dubiously and clears his throat. ”Why are you so apprehensive about it?” Castiel asks, tilting his head and putting on his signature 'confused puppy dog' stare. Dean looks down and rubs the small of his neck with his hand.

”I've never done it with a man before.” He admits shyly.

”That's not a problem at all, Dean. I've researched the subject.” 

”Wait. What?” Dean looks at Castiel with a bemused expression on his face. ”You've researched it?” 

”Yes. Isn't that only natural?” Dean thinks about Castiel's response.

”Uh... I guess.” Dean stutters, and turns his gaze back on Castiel, whose blue eyes are staring right at him expectantly. ”I don't have, uh...” the man swallows before continuing, ”I don't have any lube with me, though.” 

”That is fine. Lubrication is not needed if...” But Dean doesn't allow Castiel to finish.

”I don't think I'm ready for that.” Dean sighs. ”Not yet.” Castiel nods understandingly as Dean lifts himself off of Castiel's lap and onto the rock next to him. They sit still for a second, both ignoring the hard ons their previous activities caused. The stillness is interrupted when Castiel suddenly gasps in pain, bringing his hands to his head.

”Cas!?” Dean yells out, supporting the angel by grabbing his bare shoulders. ”What's wrong?” Castiel raises his head, blinks and shakes his head and loosens his grip on his head. He looks at his surroundings, still blinking wildly, then stands up and brushes Dean's hands off his shoulders. 

”I'm... fine.” the angel whispers in a monotone voice, walking out of the water.

”Where are you going?” Dean asks, staring at the angel's receding back. The man receives no answer, the angel just keeps walking towards their clothes. As if hypnotized, the angel looks at the piles of clothing on the rocks, then, ignoring them, begins walking up a slope. Dean hurries out of the water and quickly throws on his pants, which are still damp from the rain, and boots and then follows Castiel, who keeps walking up towards the top of the mountain.

”Cas! Stop!” Dean yells, trying to shake the angel out of whatever trance he is suddenly in. Castiel keeps walking, this time speeding up his pace and lengthening his stride. Dean has to really push himself to keep up with the angel. He is nearly running after the man when they reach the top of a hill after a long climb. There is a small door hidden on the face of the mountain, only the door knob visible. Castiel reaches to touch it. The angel wraps his fingers around the stony knob and twists, opening a long, pitch black passage way to who knows where. Castiel enters the passage way, and before Dean manages to get inside, the door slams in his face. 

”Cas!” Dean screams in frustration, then kicks the stone door with his left leg and curses under his breath. ”Dammit!” He frantically tries pulling the door open by twisting and turning the stone knob, but the door remains closed. Dean starts looking for another way in to the passage way, or for a way to open the door. He finds a large, heavy rock, still lift-able, near the door. Dean picks the rock up with both hands, steps a few feet away from the door and hurls the rock as hard as he can at it, hoping it will break. The stone has no other effect than making a loud 'clang' sound as it collides with the door. Dean tries again, this time aiming straight for the door knob, hitting it and knocking it clean off. The man begins looking for something thin and strong that could fit through the small crease of the door while cursing through gritted teeth, but he finds nothing in the doors vicinity. Dean decides to go back to the car to get his crowbar from the back of the truck. He half runs and half slides down the hills and slopes towards the lake, before turning left and making his way towards the main road where his trusty Impala is waiting. He grabs the keys from his pocket, more than happy he left them there after the rain, and twists the trunk door open. He lifts up the fake floor of the trunk and searches for his crowbar among his tools and his fathers hunting gear. When Dean finds what he's looking for, he hastily slams the trunk shut and locks the car before sprinting off towards the lake again. 

When Dean reaches the clearing with the door again, he begins attempting to wrench it open with the crowbar. He sticks the thin end of the crowbar in to the crease between the door and the mountain side and begins twisting it. Dean pushes with as much force as he can muster, but the door remains shut. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes for a second, then opens them and puts all his strength into one final push, which finally breaks the lock mechanism on the door and opens it. Dean grabs his crowbar in one hand and proceeds down the dark hallway, one hand on the wall at all times to make sure he isn't going to run straight into it. 

Dean edges forwards carefully in the pitch black passage way, inching his feet forward one small step at a time, always feeling for the ground beneath his foot before stepping down. He continues his slow stride for what seems like an eternity, before turning a corner and seeing light peaking out from behind another corner. Dean slowly makes his way towards the corner, crowbar now in both hands, preparing to attack in case something, or someone, jumps at him. Nothing does, so he proceeds into the light. 

Dean comes upon a well lit clearing in the cave. There is nothing in the room, except dozens of candles, which all cast a somewhat eerie glow in the place. There are narrow stairs leading down to a place from where Dean can hear a voice talking in a hushed tone. Dean approaches carefully, gripping tight at his crowbar and starts walking down the steep steps, one stair at a time, constantly making sure there's nothing in front of or behind him. Below the steps is another large cave area, well lit with candles. In the corner, Dean sees a shadow of a man, and in the other, a large shadow of two wings: Castiel. Dean starts sneaking towards Castiel's shadow, careful not to make a sound so as not to alert the other man in the room. Castiel is standing on some kind of pedestal, one similar to the one he used to stand on in the graveyard. No, not similar, Dean notices. It is an exact replica of the one Castiel's statue stood on next to his mother and father's grave at the cemetery. The angel himself is wearing a stony expression. His body is contorted into the same position he was in as a statue, but his skin is still pink, soft and warm under Dean's touch, who tries to snap the angel out of it by gently smacking his cheeks. Dean's hitting has no effect, so he tries to tip the angel over. Castiel has his feet planted firmly on the pedestal; he doesn't even budge when Dean starts trying to push him off of it. 

Dean stomps his foot down quietly, and starts making his way towards the man chanting in a hushed tone in the other corner of the cave. The man is crouched down on the ground, reading something out from a paper in his hands. Dean approaches slowly on his tiptoes, crowbar raised beside his head, both hands gripping the handle. When he comes close enough, he notices the man on the ground is none other than Lucifer, the man he and Castiel have been hunting. Or had been hunting, since they haven't really given the man any thought since Castiel lost his powers. 

Dean prepares his crowbar, and takes a swing straight at Lucifer's blonde head, but something stops the crowbar from hitting Lucifer's head, some kind of force field or something. Lucifer ignores Dean, who begins hacking away at the force field, hoping to break through it somehow. Once Lucifer stops talking he stands up and turns towards Dean, smiling in his direction before raising his hand and throwing Dean into the wall of the cave in one swift movement of his wrist. The crowbar flies out of Dean's hand.

”Hello again, Dean.” Lucifer smirks down at Dean, who's shakily trying to get himself to a sitting position, the back of his head and back bleeding from the impact with the sharp stone wall. ”You.” Dean spits out with as much spite as he can muster, trying to steady his painstaken voice. ”What the hell did you do to Cas, you son of a bitch?” Lucifer closes in on Dean and grabs his throat with one hand, pulling the man up from the ground choking for air. The grin on Lucifer's face widens.

”I'm only returning him to his rightful place.” Lucifer cackles as Dean begins trying to pry his fingers off from around his neck with his shaking hands. Dean can feel his mind clearing from thoughts as Lucifer lifts him off the ground so his feet are hanging in the air. He chokes and lets out a pitiful groan that makes Lucifer laugh. When his attacker throws his head back, Dean takes his chance and quickly kicks him in the groin. Lucifer moans in pain and releases his grip on Dean's neck, letting the man fall to the ground. Dean screams as the rocks dig in to his already bloody and broken skin. His vision is foggy and his head hurts. Lucifer is lunched down, one hand holding his crotch, the other holding him up. When Lucifer regains his balance he makes his way towards Dean again, fury burning in his eyes. Lucifer kicks Dean in the head with the sole of his shoe, emitting a pained grunt from the man on the ground. When Lucifer bends down next to Dean, he punches the man hard in the stomach. All the air in Dean's lungs is gone after the punch and he feels dizzy, nauseous and his entire back is stinging painfully. The pain in his back combined with the pain Lucifer's punches are causing, causes Dean's vision to blur. His eyes roll back, and he falls unconscious.


	13. Chapter 12

When Dean comes to, he is still in the cave. A loud banging has awoken him. His vision is still blurry, so he rubs at his eyes, trying to clear it. His head hurts, and he generally feels like he's been run over by a steam train. His vision begins clearing and he can finally concentrate his gaze again. When he looks up, he sees Castiel pinning Lucifer down. Castiel has his fist raised up to his cheek, and he strikes, only to be blocked by Lucifer's hand. Lucifer, at the same moment, manages to throw Castiel's balance off and knock him to the opposite wall. The man fast approaches the angel and instead pins him down on the floor, chocking him by the neck. Dean forces himself up off the ground, each small movement making a sharp pain course through his body. He tries ignoring the pain and starts approaching Lucifer and Castiel. He spots his crowbar off a few feet away from him, grabs it, slowly bending down to get it, nearly keeling over from the stinging in his back, and starts making his way towards Lucifer and Castiel again. Castiel is coughing wildly, and Lucifer is now kicking the writhing angel on the ground. He doesn't even see Dean coming from behind him.

As quietly as he can, Dean raises the crowbar and swings for Lucifer's head, hitting him square in the side of his occipital lobe. Lucifer sways in the direction of Dean's swing and staggers on his feet and Dean hits the blonde again and again, swinging the crowbar as hard as he can in his condition. The man falls to the ground, letting out a small yelp as he hits the ragged stone floor. Castiel breathes heavily and looks to Dean, who is leaning against a shoulder high rock formation on his right. The angel jumps up onto two feet and helps support Dean up by wrapping his arm around the shaky mans waist. Dean mutters a 'thanks' to the angel, steadying his grip on his crowbar in case Lucifer stand again. The men side step towards the stairs, keeping their eyes peeled on the form lying still on the ground. When Dean and Castiel are at the root of the stairs, Dean can see that Lucifer's head has cracked open from the force of either the fall or his attack. He gags and looks away, throwing the crowbar back on the room floor, leaving it next to Lucifer's immobile corpse. Castiel helps Dean up the steps and through the passage way, out of the cave and into the warm summer air outside. It is already dark outside, the stars shining brightly in the near black mountain sky. Dean takes a shaky breath and closes his eyes. Castiel urges him forward and guides him away from the door, which he closes behind him. The angel leans Dean against a tree growing on the hill side and begins covering up the cave entrance. He throws rocks into a pile in front of the door and smashes the door into millions of pieces for good measure. When the opening is completely sealed up, he goes back to Dean, lifts the near unconscious man on his arms and begins making his way towards the lake. When at the lake, he lays Dean down and gets water from the lake and starts cleaning up the puncture wounds on Dean's back. His healing powers refuse to work so he is reduced to cleaning and wrapping Dean's back without them. He uses the sheet they sat on as a bandage, tearing thin strips off of it and tying them around Dean's middle.

Dean is still conscious when Castiel pours the first drop of water on his back. The man hisses in pain but remains still, allowing Castiel to clean the wounds. After Castiel has bandaged the man's back he begins throwing his own clothes on. He doesn't notice the wound on Dean's head at first, but when he reaches the pile of clothes, and sees the shiny gleam in the back of the mans head, he runs to get more water from the lake. The wounds on Dean's head aren't deep, but they are bleeding badly. The angel rips more strips from what is left of the large sheet and starts washing the back of the man's head. He finishes up by wrapping a few strips tightly around Dean's forehead. 

Castiel orders Dean to stay down on the ground while he dresses and gathers the rest of their stuff. When everything is packed, Castiel grabs them in one arm and throws Dean on his shoulder. He tries to teleport straight to Dean's house, but his powers are all but gone so he starts walking towards the Impala. When he gets to the car, he gently lay's Dean down on the back seat on his stomach, throws the items they had with them in the trunk and sits down in the front seat, his wings tucked back to the backseat, resting partly on top of Dean's legs. While Dean has thought him how to change the tires and the oil in the car, he never taught the angel to operate the vehicle. Castiel has no idea how to drive the car, but he figures he has to try. The angel pushes the key into the ignition as he's seen Dean do countless times before, and twists, bringing the engine roaring to life. He pushes the pedal and the car begins moving forward. Since Castiel has no idea how to put the car into reverse, he tries turning the car gently around, managing to do it after a little while of inching the car around. 

Castiel pushes the pedal gently and the car roars to life, beginning to move forward slowly. When Castiel is back on a larger road, he pushes the pedal all the way down and nearly loses control of the Impala when he twists the wheel too fast. He lifts his leg off the speed pedal and slams his other foot on the breaks, putting the car to an abrupt stop. The angel tries again, this time opting to push the speed pedal gently, and driving slowly. Only once he has gotten the hang of it does he try to push the pedal with more force. 

Castiel twists and turns down the straight roads to Dean's house, thankfully remembering each turn they took to get to the mountains. He passes by the church on his way.

When Castiel pulls in at the drive way in front of Dean's house, he stops the car, takes the key out of the ignition and opens the door. The Impala slides backwards down the slight slope of the driveway, stopping at the slightly raised pavement. The car is half on the grass and half on the asphalt when Castiel gets out the car and begins dragging Dean inside the house. 

The angel fumbles for the front door keys from Dean's jean pockets, finding the right one and opening the door. He closes the door behind him and drags Dean into the mans bedroom and lays him on the bed on his stomach. Dean's skin is pale, and his breaths short and shallow, and Castiel wishes, more than anything, that he could have his powers back so he could heal the man laying unconscious on the bed before him. Castiel grabs a stool from the dining room, sets it down beside Dean's bed, then goes and gets ice cold water for Dean to drink once he wakes up. The angel pulls the covers over Dean's shivering body and sits. He waits there for hours until Dean finally wakes up, groaning loudly.

”Dean?” The angel asks worriedly.

”Ughh, my head.” Dean moans.

”Do you need something to alleviate the pain?” Castiel questions, awaiting Dean's answer. Dean nods.

”There's a pack of... I forgot their name. A light yellow pack of painkillers in the bathroom cabinet.” Dean mutters, his speech slow and slurred. Castiel gets up and goes into the bathroom and begins sorting through the various bottles and packets in the cabinet. He finds the medicine he was looking for and brings it to Dean. Castiel reads the instructions in the back of the packet, opens it, pops one tablet off the film and hands it to Dean. Dean takes the pill and reaches for the glass of water on the bedside table, puts the capsule into his mouth and drinks it down with the water. He slumps back on the bed and begins breathing slowly, inhaling and exhaling quietly. The man closes his eyes and waits for the painkillers to kick in before opening them again.

”What did Lucifer do to you in there?” He directs to Castiel.

”I'm not sure. I blacked out at the lake when my head started hurting and when I woke up I was in the cave with you and Lucifer.” Castiel says calmly, shifting his eyes to the left at the end of his sentence. 

”Great.” Dean hisses, thinking back to the cave and seeing Castiel standing there like a statue. ”He's dead now... right?” Dean carefully asks Castiel.

”Yes.” 

”So he can't come after you anymore?” 

”No.” Castiel grits through his teeth.

”Good.” Dean mutters and turns his head to face the other direction. He closes his eyes again and soon enough falls back asleep, the painkiller easing his slumber. 

Castiel looks down sadly. He remembers everything that happened at the cave. The angel remembers walking towards the cave, his body not listening to his commands. He remembers entering the cave and coming face to face with Lucifer, who guided him to stand on the pedestal. He remembers every word of the chant Lucifer repeated in the cave and he remembers when Dean tried to snap him awake. The angel can't bring himself to tell Dean about the spell Lucifer chanted. He has a feeling the man wont quite understand. 

Castiel moves the chair closer to Dean's bed and lays his head next to Dean's sleeping body. He wraps his wings around the man and closes his eyes, trying to fall asleep. His thoughts are racing in his mind, though, so he is unable to get any rest. He tries shaking his thoughts away, but fails. He gives up trying to rid his mind of the thoughts and allows them to course through his head.

He lays next to Dean until the next morning when the strong rays coming from the rising sun force him to open his eyes. Dean is still sleeping when he opens his eyes. The man's breathing seems easier, but his skin is still pale. Castiel figures he should make the man something to eat so he doesn't starve to death. The angel goes into the kitchen and begins cooking scrambled eggs in a frying pan on the stove. 

Dean wakes up while Castiel is cooking, his nostrils filling with a strong cooked egg smell. 

”Cas?” He yells tiredly from the bedroom, slowly lifting himself up so he's perched on his elbows. ”Cas, what are you doing?” Dean asks, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

”I'm making breakfast.” Comes the short response. ”Just stay there, it is almost ready.” Castiel adds, stirring the eggs in the pan one more time before pouring the contents of the frying pan on two small plates. He waits by the toaster for the bread to pop out, catching them when they do. He spreads a small amount of strawberry jam on both pieces, then places one on each plate. He grabs forks and glasses and takes a large tray from the top of one of the kitchen shelves and places everything on it. He grabs a carton of milk from the fridge, sets that too on the tray and brings the tray to Dean's bedroom. 

Dean flicks on the lamp on the bedside table and looks at the tray incredulously, examining the food Castiel has prepared. He begins carefully moving himself into a sitting position on the bed, crossing his legs in front of him. Castiel takes his own plate, fork and glass and sets them on the bedside table, handing Dean the tray. Dean puts the tray on top of his legs and pours himself a glass of milk, cursing when the movement stings in his back. He hands the carton to Castiel, who pours himself some of the white liquid before setting the carton down on the table. Dean begins eating slowly, each little motion of his hand causing a painful ache in his back.

”Would you like me to feed you?” Castiel asks, noticing the pain Dean is in. 

”No.” Dean answers stubbornly, continuing to ladle the scrambled eggs into his mouth with the fork, ignoring the burning in his back. Castiel starts eating his own food, all the while keeping his eyes on Dean, whose face is grimaced in pain. 

”Are you sure you don't need help?” 

”I'm fine, Cas!” Dean snaps, turning to look at Castiel. The fast move makes his head hurt, and he brings his cool hand on to his forehead. ”Can you give me one more of those painkillers?” He says, pointing towards the yellow packet which lays out of his reach.

”Of course.” Castiel says, reaching for the packet and popping one capsule out, handing it to Dean. Dean gulps it down with some milk and continues eating his scrambled eggs. 

”There's no salt in these.” He says, ”But you still managed to cook these pretty well. The flavor is good.” Dean compliments Castiel, who feels like he is beaming, glad to be complimented on something he's never done before. 

”Would you like me to get you the salt?” Castiel asks.

”No, it's fine.” Dean answers. ”Healthier this way anyway.” Dean smiles through gritted teeth, the pain raking at his back burning intensely. 

Dean finishes his scrambled eggs and moves on to tasting the toast. He deems it good and eats it quickly, finishing his breakfast with the rest of his milk. Castiel finishes his own breakfast and takes the tray from Dean. He takes it to the kitchen and leaves it by the sink; he will do the dishes later.

”Is there anything you would like?” Castiel asks Dean when he returns to the bed room. Dean stands up, Castiel rushing to support him.

”I wanna change my clothes, watch TV and have a beer.” He mutters, gently running his fingers across his bandaged back, feeling the damage. The angel helps him change into something more comfortable than last nights dirty jeans. Dean puts on a soft pair of warm pajamas he received from Sam one Christmas, and throws on warm socks, his entire body freezing for some reason. Castiel begins leading him to the living room. Once there, the angel orders Dean to wait while he gets some pillows for him to lean on. When Castiel returns with his arms full of soft pillows, he tells Dean to lay down. He places the pillows under Dean's back and fetches a blanket for Dean to lie under. The angel pushes the coffee table close to the sofa and runs to the kitchen to get two beers, one for himself and one for Dean. Dean thanks him and pats the couch with his hand, signaling the angel to take a seat there. Dean lifts his legs up so Castiel can sit, then lays his feet down on Castiel's lap, then begins switching through different channels. 

Nothing is on TV at this hour, so Dean decides to watch a movie instead. He asks Castiel to go put in a movie, any movie, and Castiel reaches for a classic Disney movie called 'Mulan' and puts it in the DVD player. He goes back to sit where he sat before but Dean points for him to sit where the pillows are. Castiel obeys and sits there, allowing Dean to lay his head on his warm lap. Dean shifts uncomfortably and carefully, trying to avoid hurting his back. Castiel sees Dean's discomfort and asks him to raise his head. He puts the softest and largest pillow on his lap and tells the man to lay his head back down.

”Ah, much better.” Dean smiles and turns his attention on the television screen, currently running pre-movie advertisements. Castiel doesn't mention it to Dean, but he feels wrong. Something is off: his head feels weird, and he has trouble moving his toes. The angel fears Lucifer may have succeeded with whatever spell he was working on at the cave before his death and is now afraid that this might be the cause of that spell. Castiel thinks, whatever it is that is wrong with him, that it's best not to say anything to Dean, who already has been through enough.

”Why'd you choose Mulan?” Dean suddenly becomes curious. Castiel cocks his eyebrows at the word 'Mulan'. ”The movie, why this one?”

”It had an interesting cover.” 

”Huh...” Dean thinks and turns back to watching the movie. Dean's slight movements send odd chills down Castiel's legs, causing a small tingling sensation which feels very uncomfortable. Castiel is slightly alarmed, never having felt something like that before. He taps on Dean's shoulder gently. The man lifts his eyes to look at Castiel's.

”Dean, my feet. They tingle.” 

”Oh, sorry. It must be because they're getting numb. I'll get off.” Dean says and gets up, sitting so his back is slightly leaning against the angel's warm shoulder.

”Is that normal? The numbness?” Castiel asks.

”Yeah.” Dean huffs, returning his gaze back to the film.

”Oh.” Castiel says quietly and starts concentrating on the animated images running across the television screen. He figures if this numb feeling is normal, it should pass soon enough, so he pays no mind to it for the rest of the day.


	14. Chapter 13

To Castiel's dismay, the tingling feeling in his legs doesn't go away, even after three days. His fingers are starting to feel numb too, and he no longer gets hungry as often as he did before. Now, more than ever, he fears Lucifer might have done something to cause this. 

Dean begins noticing the angels discomfort more and more in the following weeks as well, and he starts becoming increasingly worried about the man. Castiel barely eats, he barely sleeps, he doesn't shower or use the bathroom, he's become cold and distant, almost as if he had no emotions at all. Some days the angel doesn't respond to movement or sound at all and Dean has to nudge him into consciousness. Castiel rarely does anything else but stare off into the distance, not much regarding what is happening around him. Unless he is snapped out of his almost hypnotic staring by a gentle touch to the wings or shoulder, he will remain that way for the rest of the day, perhaps even longer. Sometimes even Dean's touch doesn't help.

Sam and Dean have had long talks on the phone for the last week, with Dean opening up to Sam about the current situation, most of the time venting out all his frustrations on his younger brother. Sam is understanding and remains calm, trying to get Dean to calm down with him. He tries giving advice on how to subtly ask what's wrong and if everything is ok, but is just as lost as Dean is on how to coax the angel out of his trance like states.

Dean tries asking Castiel what's wrong, every day, if he wants to talk about it, all the time, but the angel always dismisses him with a wave of his arm, claiming he's completely fine, turning his back to face Dean so the man doesn't see his face. His eyes betray his calm facade and the angel doesn't want Dean to know just how frightened he is of his current condition. Dean cannot count the times he has wanted to throw something hard and heavy at the angel in the past week. 

Dean approaches Castiel again one day, this time questioning about how the angel feels, once again getting a wave of the hand and a monotone 'I'm fine' for an answer. He has finally had enough after nearly three weeks of the same hand waving and the uncaring tone Castiel uses when he says he's fine.

”Cas, what the hell is wrong with you?” He screams, his anger way past the point of being furious. Castiel's eyes remain fixed into nothingness, staring straight ahead of him. Dean blocks his view, finally getting the angel to look at him. The angels eyes are glazed and sad, their usually vibrant blue now a dull blue-ish grey. They almost look the same as when Castiel was under Lucifer's control. Dean is shocked and slightly taken aback, but he doesn't back down and keeps yelling at the man. 

”Talk to me Cas! What's wrong?” Castiel opens his mouth to respond, but looks down at his lap, the familiar blue returning for merely a moment.

”Dean, nothing's wrong.” The angels voice is shaky and angry. He shifts his gaze to look at the floor on his left.

”Don't give me that crap! There's something wrong with you, it's pretty damn clear. Now would you just man up and tell me what's gotten into you?” Dean shouts, ignoring the hurt look on the angel's soft features. Castiel's lips are curled downwards and his eyebrows are angled towards his nose. His eyes are sad and slightly angry as they turn towards Dean.

”Leave it be, Dean. There's nothing you can do.” Castiel says slowly, shaking his head and looking away from Dean. 

”Just tell me!” Dean is beginning to sound desperate.

”Lucifer...” Castiel starts, ”he did something to me.” Castiel sighs and takes a deep breath. ”I think he reversed the spell.” 

”What spell?” 

”The one that turned me 'human'," Castiel says, making quotes in the air with his fingers. Then he continues "or brought me to life.” Dean's face drops, his mouth is gaping open in disbelief and his eyes are wide.

”What? H-h-how do you know?” Dean stutters with his words, the shock of what Castiel said still evident on his face.

”I've been losing all feeling in my limbs. I cannot feel my toes nor my fingers. I cannot feel the tips of my wings. I do not feel hungry or tired anymore. I don't get dirty anymore and I have no need to empty my bowels anymore either. The color on my skin has been draining and I feel less and less in control of myself.” Castiel's voice begins shaking as it gets louder and louder with each word he spits out. ”I can't concentrate anymore, and sometimes I just snap to some kind of trance, as you have already noticed. I don't feel, hear, or see anything when that happens. You can snap me out of it every now and then, but soon you probably wont be able to. You've noticed too. It becomes harder to wake me each time.”

”You've got to be kidding me.” Dean's face contorts into refusal. ”There has to be something we can do, Cas.” 

”If there is some way to stop this, I don't know it. I'm sorry Dean. Perhaps it's best if I just-”

”No way. There must be a way we can stop it.” Dean starts pacing around the living room, hand on his chin, mind racing through possibilities. He stops and turns to Castiel. ”Do you remember anything, anything at all from when you were in that cave. You told me you don't remember, but please, think back. Is there anything you remember? Anything, like, how you got to the cave? Something?” Dean's voice gets higher with each question, each word sounding more desperate than the last. Castiel nods and Dean's eyes light up.

”I remember everything, actually.” The angel admits and the anger returns to Dean's face. 

”What?” the man snaps.

”Lucifer was chanting a spell. I did not understand what he was saying, but I had a bad feeling it might have something to do with getting rid of me, and it seems I was right. His last spell was to turn me back into a statue.”

”But, you're not a statue yet. So what the hell?”

”I recall something from the first few days of my existence, when I first met Lucifer and Ruby. Lucifer was explaining something to Ruby about the reversing spell being a long acting one. He told her it would take a few months until the spell fully affected the target. I assume they were speaking of the spell Lucifer was chanting in the cave.” 

"Why the hell would they want to reverse the spell?"

"Lucifer said if I become too much of a nuisance and hinder their plans then he will get rid of me and think of another way to accomplish his plans." Dean thinks on Castiel's words and after a long pause, he speaks.

”Do you know if we can...” Dean fumbles with his words, trying to think of the best way to say this, ”reverse the reversing spell?” 

”I'm not sure.” 

”Wait!” Dean exclaims and rushes to his computer. He pulls up the images of the spells the old doctor had sent Sam, who in turn sent them to him when they first begun researching the subject. ”Look, there!” Dean begs Castiel to take a look. The angel wobbly steps over to Dean, leaning over the mans shoulder and looking at the small text on the screen. ”There are four spells right? The last one hasn't been translated here. Can you read it?” Castiel examines the scripture, muttering inaudibly to himself.

”Yes I can.”

”Do you understand it?”

”I don't know how to translate it to your language, nor do I understand the meaning of those words, Dean, but those are definitely the words Lucifer spoke in the cave.”

”Are you sure?”

”Positive.” Castiel confirms. Dean rushes off the computer and grabs his phone, frantically dialing a number.

”Hello?” Sounds a faint voice from the other line. 

”Sammy, hey! I need your help man!” Dean shouts into the phone, storming off into his bedroom and rummaging through the drawers in the bedside tables. He grabs a piece of paper with incoherent writing and a pen.

”What is it, is this about Cas?” Sam asks carefully, knowing that lately Castiel has been quite a sore subject to Dean.

”Yeah. Do you remember the time we reversed the control Lucifer had on Cas?” 

”Yeah, I do. Why?”

”The professor who gave you all the research notes, the spells and all those. I need you to contact him and ask him if there are anymore spells. And I need all the translations if they're available!” Dean begins scribbling something down on the paper, a list of some sort.

”I can try, I'll send him an email.”

”No. Call him. I need the info right now.” Dean shouts into the phone, writing something feverishly on the piece of paper, crossing out words and phrases here and there.

”What's this about?”

”Lucifer managed to somehow reverse the first spell, the one that brought Cas to life. I need to stop it, and I need to know how!”

”I don't know if the professor knows any more of those spells. He sent us all the ones he had at the time.” Sam speaks, uncertain of his brothers plans.

”He has to have more. If not him, someone else! Please, Sammy! I can't ask anyone else. You're the best researcher I know!” Dean praises his brother in hopes of getting him to agree.

”Ok, I'll try. I can't promise anything, but I'll try.”

”Thanks Sam.” Dean says softly and hangs up the phone, stuffing the sleek cell into his back pocket before returning to writing something with messy handwriting on the small paper. He stuffs the paper into his pocket as well and runs out of his bedroom, grabbing his car keys and leather jacket. Castiel appears in the hallway and looks at Dean questioningly.

”I need to go back to the cave.” Dean says, searching for a flash light from the drawer in the hallway. He finally finds a flash light and stuffs it into his overly large leather jackets pockets. 

”I sealed the entry when we left.” Castiel sighs, looking at Dean.

”I'll just have to find another way in or find a way to unseal the exit.” Dean mutters, tying his shoelaces tighter than they were. ”I'll need a crowbar. You just stay here, I won't be gone for long.” Dean says as he exits through the front door, carrying a large, brown leather wallet in his hands. 

”I want to come with you.” The angel says, looking directly into Dean's eyes. The man shakes his head. ”I am not letting you do this alone.” Castiel says, posture straight and full of determination. Dean sighs and mutters 'fine' under his breath.

”But you have to stay in the car while I'm at the hardware store.” Dean points his index finger at the angels face. Castiel nods and heads out the door with him and stuffs himself into the back seat of the Impala. Dean suddenly stops, half way to turning the key in the ignition and turns to Castiel, one hand draped over the back of his seat.

”Wait, how did we get back from the mountains that time?” Dean asks.

”I drove us.” 

”When did you learn to drive? And who told you you could drive my car?” Dean huffs, gets out of the car and begins inspecting it. He runs around the Impala a few times before getting back inside the car. ”You made it back ok, it seems. At least you didn't hit anything. Although you suck at parking.” Dean adds, remembering the way the car was when he used it again for the first time after the scene in the cave. Castiel laughs to himself, amused by how slow Dean was to catch on about him driving the Impala.

 

When Dean and Castiel arrive at the mountains an hour later, the trunk of the car full of supplies from the hardware store, they exit the car taking the bag full of supplies with them and start making their way up the mountain slopes towards where the cave was. Dean stops at the lake to take a break and examine the surroundings for a second, trying to remember which way they need to go. His back and head still ache from the incident that happened two and a half weeks ago and although most of the wounds in his back and head are beginning to heal, they still sting painfully when he takes a shower or a bath.  
When Dean and Castiel find the right path to the cave they start climbing up the steep hill, Castiel following closely behind Dean, making sure Dean doesn't fall down the steep hill if his back suddenly begins aching and he loses his balance.

As Dean pulls himself up to the ledge where the cave entrance is located, he looks in horror at where the door used to be. The entrance has been smashed to hell, large boulders are covering the entry to the hallway, and part of the hallway seems to have collapsed.

”You did this?” Dean asks Castiel, who simply nods and begins moving the boulders in the front off to the side. Dean starts helping the angel, moving the smaller rocks and boulders, unable to carry or lift the same kind of weights that his angel friend can. When the rocks become too heavy for either to lift, Dean grabs two crowbars from the bag and starts using those to lift the heavier boulders away from the entrance.

When Dean and Castiel are done clearing up the entry to the passage way, it is already becoming dark, and Dean has already missed his Wednesday nights bar tending shift. Dean sends a quick text to his boss, apologizing for not being able to come to work today and forgetting to inform him. After sending the text message, he and Castiel begin making their way through the passage way, both holding a bright flash light in their hands, lighting their way in the cave. 

The first clearing in the cave smells slightly of stearin, although all the candles have long since burned down. Every step the men take echoes in the small cave, ringing in their ears for long after they've taken the step. 

Castiel is the first to descent the stairs, his flash light lighting his path. The smell coming from below the stairs is nauseating, and Dean has to take a break to tie a cloth around his mouth to breathe through. Lucifer's rotting corpse lays in the middle of the cave, slowly decomposing. Dean tries not to look at the rotten mess on the ground and heads, instead, towards the corner where Lucifer chanted his spell. Castiel, in the meanwhile, goes to examine the pedestal on the other side of the room. In the corner where Lucifer sat reading his spell, Dean finds a small note, burned out candles and a large bowl of salt on top of which lies a smelly piece of flesh. Behind the bowl is an old, tattered book, the pages nearly falling off when Dean picks it up. Dean quickly shuffles through the book and looks at the pages. He can't understand anything, every word seems to be in either the old weird writing or in a thin, unreadable cursive.

”Cas?” Dean calls. Castiel walks up behind him. ”Can you read this?” Castiel takes the book from Dean's extended hand and begins eyeing the open page.

”Yes. But I don't quite understand what it means.”

”Can you read the other writing? Those blue squiggly letters?” Dean gets up and points at the blue cursive letters.

”Not completely. I can make out some of the words yes, but it's very hard to read.” Dean nods. 

”Ok. I think I got everything I need from here.” Dean says, quickly taking a picture of the way the candles and the bowl and book were set on the floor with his cell phones camera, managing only to get a shaky, badly lit photo that just and just shows the approximate setting, then starts heading back up the stairs, turning his head away from the pile of rotting flesh on the ground. Castiel takes one last look at the pedestal he was forced to stand on while Lucifer read his spell, then follows Dean out of the cave.

 

Instead of driving back home, Dean takes the high way and begins driving towards the state borders. Castiel sits in the back seat, looking confused at the unfamiliar surroundings. He begins getting anxious when the tingling feeling begins again, and his legs go numb.

”Dean, where are we going?” Castiel asks, while his mind is still his own.

”To Sam's.” Dean answers, casting the angel a worrying glance from the rear view mirror. ”You still you?” He adds, seeing the look on Castiel's face.

”My legs have gone numb and my wings feel heavy. Otherwise I feel fine so far.”

”Ok, hang in there, we'll figure this out. I promise.” Dean says and presses the pedal down even further, speeding down the crowded high way.

 

Dean pulls into Sam and Jessica's house's driveway late in the evening. The moon is fully up and the stars are shining brightly in the dark sky. The street lamps have already been turned off and Dean's stomach is starving for nutrition. The man ignores the rumbling in his stomach, gets out of the car and grabs the book with him before going to ring the door bell. Castiel waits in the car, his feet refusing to move and his mind beginning to go blank again. 

Dean furiously presses the door bell, ringing it until Sam comes to open the door, wearing only his pajamas. He rubs his eyes and looks at his older brother.

”Why are you here? Have you seen what time it is?”

”Yeah, look, I'm sorry I woke you up. I found this!” Dean throws the book into Sam's hands. ”Please tell me you can read the writing.” Sam flips the book open to a random page and looks through the spread.

”You know I can't read that.” Sam says, shaking his head and pointing to the ancient symbols on the pages.

”No, not that!” Dean shuffles through the book, trying to find a spread with the blue cursive on it. ”That!” He yells when he finally finds a page with the scribbles.

”Oh that? Yeah, one of my professors writes with similar hand writing. I've gotten used to reading it. Why?” Sam eyes Dean suspiciously.

”I found it in the cave where Lucifer read the reversing spell, or whatever, a few weeks ago.” Dean admits, urging Sam to read out a few lines of the cursive text written above the symbols on the pages. Sam scoffs and begins reluctantly reading some of the words aloud.

”This one is actually the first spell, the revival spell that Lucifer used. The blue text is apparently a pronunciation guide for the symbols over there. See this one?” Sam points to the simplest symbol, three short lines overlapping each other. ”This one is pronounced 'dock'.” 

”Ok, great. Now we can read it. I still need to know which one can reverse the... the reversal spell.” Dean huffs impatiently, turning the pages of the book, which is still in Sam's hands.

”Calm down Dean! I'll read this over, take notes, and I'll show it to the professor tomorrow. He's coming to hold a lecture in the school about ancient cultures. I'll ask him to take a look after the lecture ends, ok?” Dean sighs and nod's an 'ok'. ”Thank you. Will you stay here tonight or are you going home with Cas? Why is he still in the car, anyway?” Dean looks back at the car. Castiel is sitting stiffly in the backseat, his eyes glazed and staring straight ahead. The angel's mouth isn't moving and it doesn't appear that he is breathing either. Dean sighs sadly.

”He can't move his legs and he's gone back into that catatonic state. Anyway, I think we'll head home. I don't wanna bother you and Jess anymore than I already have.” 

”Yeah ok. I'll call you tomorrow if I find anything interesting. Goodnight Dean.” Sam wishes and closes the door after giving his elder brother a sympathetic look. Dean walks back to the Impala. Castiel is still staring off into the distance in the back seat, his whole body rigid. Dean looks at Castiel sadly and tries not to think of the inevitable. He gently nudges the angel in hopes of getting a response, but nothing happens. He turns the car stereos on as loud as they go without rupturing his own ear drums, and sings along to get his mind off of things. He drives recklessly on the empty roads, turning corners with enough speed to make the tires screech. Dean hits many bumps and corners on his way and nearly runs over a large trash bin when the car slides a bit too much.

The angel doesn't blink, not once. He doesn't even flinch or twitch during the return trip to Dean's home.


	15. Chapter 14

The next night Sam calls Dean with news. Apparently there is a spell that could possibly stop the one Lucifer started before his death. Sam explains that according to the writing that was translated in the book, the spell needs only one ingredient, a rare flower, an orchid known commonly as the 'ghost orchid'. 

”It's scientific name is Dendrophylax lindenii and it grows naturally in southern Florida.” 

”Why that flower? What's so special about it?”

”I don't know. I'm only telling you what the professor translated to me from the book. I'm guessing it probably had some sort of significance to the people who came up with these spells.”

”Ok, how do I find one? Do I have to go to Florida to take one, or can I buy it somewhere?” Dean fiddles with his cell phone, anxiously tapping his foot on the floor. His finger is drumming the shell of his cell phone, annoying Sam greatly - "Would you please stop that?". Castiel is laying on his bed, staring off into the distance. He hasn't reacted, not once, since he became like that last night. Dean had to drag him back inside, carefully twisting the angels stiff limbs through the front door.

”I found a website where you can buy a grown flower online. They deliver everywhere in the states and the delivery is usually really fast, because the flower doesn't stay in bloom for too long. I can order one for you, if you want.”

”Yes please. I'll pay you back when all of this is over.” Dean sighs in relief, knowing there might be a way to cure Castiel.

”The rest of the spell is tricky though. The spell needs to be read out with perfect pronunciation, and it needs to be said out loud to a specific rhythm. The professor recorded the rhythm for me, thankfully. He was very suspicious of what I was up to, asking him to translate the book which I suddenly had and all. I had to give him the book to assure him I wasn't up to anything weird. I got a copy of the instructions for the spell though." Sam spoke, writing something on his computer. Dean can clearly hear the quiet tap of each key that Sam's fingers hit. " Anyway, I'll send a sound clip of the rhythm to you with the rest of the instructions by email.” Sam says over the phone, tapping at his keyboard again. ”There. Sent!”

”Great, thank you Sam! I knew I could count on you!” 

”Yeah, don't thank me yet. The rhythm and the pronunciation aren't the hardest part of the ritual.” Sam takes a deep breath and continues, ”The spell has to be repeated in the place where the angel was revived, at the graveyard. Cas has to be standing in the exact same position he was standing when he was revived, and it has to be done before Castiel turns back to stone.” 

”Seriously? Who came up with this shit?" Dean grumbles. "How much time do I have?”

”The professor told me the spell will take full effect exactly four weeks from the spell. And I mean exactly. The very second Lucifer said the last word of the chant is when Castiel will have fully turned to stone 28 days later. Also, the flower needs to be set on fire before beginning the chant, and it has to burn the entire time the spell is being said, otherwise it won't work, apparently. Not according to these instructions anyway.”

”Jesus, that's a lot of stuff to remember.”

”That's why I sent you the instructions via email. You have eight days left, right?”

”Yeah, around eight days.” Dean nods and glances at Castiel, laying still on the couch.

”Ok, the professor told me that during the 24th day the revived subject will begin slowly turning to stone. You need to start hurrying up. Once Castiel starts turning to stone, he needs to be at the pedestal or the spell can't be completed.”

”Ok. Great. I need to start practicing my pronunciation then.” Dean exhales. 

”I attached a sound file of the professor reading the spell aloud. It isn't in rhythm, but it has the pronunciation. He's nearly one hundred percent sure he's pronouncing everything right.”

”Nearly? That's not good enough! Wasn't he an expert in that culture and language or something?” Dean raises his voice, becoming frustrated.

”Yeah, but the culture and language are both so old, it's hard to know for sure. Look, this is the best chance you've got.” Dean knows Sam speaks sense, but he is finding it hard to accept that the spell might not work.

”Ok, I'm gonna start learning to pronounce the words, you order the flower, or a few of them, to my place just in case and, yeah. Thanks Sam. Really.” Dean's sincerity catches Sam off guard for a second. Who know his brother would become so attached to his winged companion.

”No problem Dean. Good luck.” Sam says and hangs up the phone. Dean right away opens his email, downloads the files and begins listening to the pronunciation of the words. Thankfully most of the words pronunciations can be expressed through simple English words, such as 'cat' and 'wool'. Some of the words are hard to pronounce or even understand, though, but Dean is glad those kind of words are in the minority. The quality of the recording isn't exactly top notch, and Dean is too impatient for his own good. After some how learning the first half of the spell he has enough and he throws his mouse across the living room in anger. He's been sitting at the computer, listening to the recording for the past 12 hours without eating, sleeping or drinking. The man has been awake the entire night trying to practice how each word rolls off his tongue and he is tired and his tongue feels numb. Dean shakes his head in his hands and slumps down on the table, frustrated and angry.

Dean pushes himself away from the table and closes the lid of his laptop, forcing the computer to go to sleep. He grabs a drink of water before wobbling into his bedroom to take a nap, too tired to even think before getting more sleep. He falls asleep quicker than he could have imagined, but his dreams are filled with restless nightmares and horrifying images of both Castiel and Lucifer. Mostly he dreams about Lucifer's corpse coming back to life, and even though Dean knows it's a dream, he wakes up terrified and drenched in sweat. 

The watch on Dean's bedside table reads 6.46 PM. Thank goodness Dean had the brains to call his employers, pretending to be sick. Dean reluctantly gets up off the warm, soft, inviting mattress and glides into the kitchen, grabs himself a beer and a piece of bread, then sits down in front of the laptop, opening the lid and bringing the computer to life. He doesn't even notice that Castiel has moved to the living room couch, before the angel clears his throat. 

”Hello Dean.” Castiel whispers without raising his gaze from the floor.

”Oh, Cas. You're awake.” Dean stares at the angel, who looks worn out and pale. The angels wings, while very clean, straight and healthy, look somehow off, as if the vibrancy in it's white color has faded. The same goes for Castiel's eyes, hair and skin. His usually, nearly black main is now a dark grey-ish color. 

”I heard you practicing. You are doing well. Although, it might be too late.” He hangs his head sadly. Dean frowns and walks to Castiel, kneeling before him and lifting his face until the angels eyes are level with his.

”Don't say that. We can fix this Cas!” Cas shoots Dean a glare and flicks his hands away from his face. Dean lets his hands fall to his side.

”My skin is beginning to change it's color back to grey. It won't be long now before I start turning to stone again.” Castiel sighs, keeping his nearly colorless eyes pinned to the corner of the small rug the coffee table is standing on. 

”Speaking of turning to stone.” Dean changes the subject, ”We have to get you into the graveyard before you actually start turning to stone. The spell wont work unless you're standing on the pedestal in the graveyard, in the exact same position you were in when you were awakened.” Castiel looks up slightly. ”We should probably get you to the cemetery already today.”

”I cannot remember the 'exact' position I was in before I was turned to flesh. This task wont be easy Dean.” 

”I know.” Dean says, taking his phone out of his back pocket. ”I have a picture on my cell phone of the statue. We can study the posture from it. I took it when I was younger and I've saved it ever since. Your statue used to calm me down when I was having a bad time, so I took a picture for times when I couldn't visit the graveyard.” Dean taps on his phone then shows Castiel a photo of what he looked like while still in statue form. The picture is small and grainy, but it shows the most crucial angles and curves on the statue. Castiel examines the photo closely, trying to imitate the position with his stiff hands.  
"Alright. I think you should drive me to the graveyard now. I fear if we take too long I will no longer be able to use my limbs. It is already hard enough to move as it is.” 

”Right. Let's go then.” Dean says and walks to the door, casting a backwards glance at Castiel who drags behind. The angel is currently in the process of removing his clothing. ”What are you doing?” 

”I do not have any clothing in the photo. I am merely taking them off.” Dean grabs Castiel's hand before the angel can completely unbutton his collar shirt and starts dragging him towards the door.

”You can take them off when we get to the church, now come on.” Dean says, pulling at Castiel's arm. Castiel complies and gets into the back seat of the car with great difficulty. Dean is about to get in when he quickly runs into the garage and comes back with a large metallic sheet, big enough to cover a car, a permanent black marker and a large piece of cardboard. "What is that for?" Castiel asks, trying to tilt his head as he usually does when questioning something, but his neck is too stiff. "You're not exactly a statue yet. We need something to cover you up with." Castiel hums in agreement and looks at Dean's house for what might be the last time as they back away from the driveway and drive towards the cemetery. 

 

Once they reach the cemetery, Dean and Castiel more or less hurry over to the pedestal where Castiel used to reside in his stone form. The angel strips naked and hops up on the pedestal, trying his best to copy his statue forms pose. Dean helps him out with the smaller details, such as the angle of his arm, trying his best to get Castiel's position to be exactly the same as in the photo.

”You sure you can stand still for long enough?” Dean asks.

”Yes. Staying still is no problem. Moving is what I have difficulty with.” Castiel demonstrates by twitching his wings slightly.

”It's just... this pose isn't exactly very practical.” Dean mutters.

”It will be fine, Dean.” Castiel casts Dean a sad look, which Dean returns, before leaning over Castiel's large wings, now wrapped loosely around the angels body, and giving the angel a quick peck on the lips, making sure no one is around at the cemetery that could have seen that. Castiel gives Dean a sad smile and then ushers him to return home to practice his pronunciation. Dean covers Castiel with the sheet he brought back and scribbles a quick 'Do not touch' on the cardboard before placing it at the foot of the statue. He makes sure no part of the angel is visible, gives the angel one last look below the silvery sheet and then whispers a quiet goodbye to Castiel. The man attaches the sheet to the ground with small wooden bolts to ensure no one will tamper with it. Dean leaves the angel alone in the graveyard hesitantly, taking the mans scattered clothes with him. 

 

The second Dean arrives back at home, he starts practicing his pronunciation with newly found energy and determination. He calls his employers, telling them he will probably be sick for quite a while, so they shouldn't expect him back at work for the next few weeks. Although his boss at the bar he works at is less than happy about this, Dean is quickly forgiven if only the man works twice as hard when he gets back to work. With work taken care of, Dean is back on his laptop practicing. He is quick to learn the rest of the chant and soon starts rehearsing it along with the rhythm. The rhythm is simple, but the timing of the words is tricky at points. He gets around half way again before falling asleep on the keyboard.

Dean wakes up the next morning to the sound of his door bell ringing loudly. A delivery man stands outside his door with a small bouquet in his hand containing the ghost flowers Sam had ordered for Dean. Dean signs his name on the mans dossier, thanks him with perhaps a little too much enthusiasm, and quickly puts the flowers into a bowl of water before returning to learn the rest of the rhythm. The latter half of the rhythm is where the beat really gets tricky. The triol's keep confusing Dean, and he starts getting mixed up with his words. He nearly reaches the point of frustration again, but he drinks a calming bottle of beer, then proceeds with his practice.

 

It takes Dean a while to perfect his chant. When he is finally ready to read the spell at the graveyard, he only has one day left until Castiel becomes a statue again permanently. Dean and Sam talked about the 'what if the spell fails' scenario, and came to the conclusion that it would be impossible for them to revive the angel again given the amount of effort and the quality of the ingredients needed for the revival spell. Most likely Castiel would lose all recollection of his time with Dean anyway, and getting the high risk, highly illegal ingredients is definitely not worth the trouble. 

On the evening of the last day before Castiel returns to stone, Dean heads out towards the cemetery, the flower, his trusty lighter, the passage and an MP3 player with the beat in it with him. He gets to the graveyard without problems and arrives at Castiel's statue just before midnight. He has less than 17 hours until the effects of the spell become final. Dean removes the sheet by first taking out the bolts keeping it in place, then throwing the sheet over Castiel's head, careful not to get it caught in anything.

Castiel is standing on the pedestal, absolutely still and nearly completely turned back to stone. The only part of him that's not yet completely hardened into stone is his right eye, which stares sadly towards Dean's parents grave. Although the eye clearly doesn't yet have the texture of stone, it is grey and dull and remains completely still. Dean, once more, makes sure the angels stance is correct, and hums in satisfaction when everything seems to be in place and everything seems correct.

Dean begins preparing for the ritual. He builds a small bonfire at the root of the statue where he will put the flower to burn while he reads out the passage. He prepares his note and practices a few more times before taking a deep breath and looking at the watch. He's been preparing himself for three hours. The man is surprised by how fast the time has flown by. Dean only has 14 more hours of time left. He looks up at Castiel's statue and panics, noticing the tiny area around Castiel's eye that still retains a slight pink-ish color to it. The area is quickly turning grey and becoming stony. Perhaps 14 hours is too much, Dean thinks and as the man takes another look at Castiel, he begins doubting if he even has 15 minutes.

Dean makes sure no one is around at the graveyard, and when he finds no sings of movement or people, he starts frantically lighting the small bonfire, blowing gently on the flames to try and get the small sticks to catch fire faster. When the bonfire is at full bloom, he places one of the flowers on top of them, turns on the beat in his MP3 player and begins reading out the words on the small piece of paper he is holding in his hands. 

As Dean reads, the wind surrounding the graveyard picks up, threatening to blow the burning flower off the fire. Dean has to weigh it down with a rock while calmly reading out each word in time with the rhythm. A strong gust of wind shakes the flower again, but it remains on the fire. The note in Dean's hand, on the other hand, is torn from the mans fingers and it flies straight into the fire and disintegrates into coal. Dean continues changing nonetheless, trying desperately to remember each and every word's pronunciation and timing with the beat. 

When Dean finishes repeating the spell, the flower is still burning into cinders on the fire. The last inch of Castiel's skin has turned into stone, but Dean waits, hopeful that he succeeded in reading the spell correctly. He waits, and waits and waits until the fire burns out and the sun begins peaking from below the horizon. He waits until his MP3 player runs out of battery and shuts itself down. He waits until the church bells clang as they always do at 8 am.

Finally, when someone, who Dean recognizes as the new priest, taps him on his shoulder, he is brought back into reality. Dean stares in horror at the angels statue, immobile and a dull color of grey. The remnants of his small bonfire are laying at Castiel's feet on the pedestal, being swept away by the wind one burnt up twig at a time. Dean is too shocked to move. He just stares at Castiel's solemn face with disbelief and slumps down on the ground on his knees. Dean sits on the cold ground, just staring up at the angels stony features. The new pastor quickly leaves Dean on his own, having given up trying to speak to the man, who obviously is in his own little world at the moment. It takes Dean a long time until his legs find the strength to keep him standing.

Dean stands up and looks Castiel statue in the eye, his shoulders lunched forward in defeat, eyes devoid of emotion. He forces his legs to move in the direction of the Impala. When he gets to the car, he begins driving, not thinking of anything. Dean doesn't turn on the music player, he doesn't rev the engine as he usually does, he just drives, eyes glued to the road in front of him. 

 

A couple hours later, he pulls up into Sam's front yard and mechanically locks his car before ringing the door bell. Jessica opens the door for him and immediately calls for Sam. She looks at Dean with worry and retrieves into the living room out of Sam and Dean's way. 

”I failed.” Dean says. ”I couldn't save him. I was too late.” Sam looks at his shorter brother with small tears brimming in the corners of his eyes before pulling him into a tight hug. Dean doesn't hug back. He merely stands there, staring off into the distance.

For the next few days that Dean stays with Sam and Jessica, he doesn't eat well or sleep well and be barely talks. He doesn't even say 'hello' to Bobby, whom Sam called to come check on Dean out of worry. It takes Dean three full days before he gets out of his shock and cries. Dean cries silently, laying down on the spare bed at Sam and Jessica's house. He cries for hours until his whole body is aching from sobbing for so long. When he is done crying, he exits the bedroom and heads straight to the bathroom to freshen himself up. Dean allows himself to look at his own reflection for only a second, noticing how pale and sickly his skin looks and how bloodshot his eyes are. He feels guilty for making Sam and Jessica worry about him, so his next stop is the living room where the couple is watching TV while cuddled next to each other on the couch. Bobby is also there, sitting on a recliner with a beer in his hand.

”Sam, Jess, Bobby. I'm sorry.” Dean says in a hushed tone, hanging his head down so they don't see his bloodshot eyes. Jessica immediately bounces off the couch to pull Dean into a warm, comforting hug, and Dean feels the tears threatening to fall again, but manages to keep them in. Sam grabs Dean's shoulder and gives him a sad smile before giving the man a hug too. Bobby pats Dean gently on the back and offers him a beer, which the man takes without hesitation. Dean flashes a small smile, sighing deeply after taking the first gulp of his beer.

The next day Dean returns home, bidding Sam and Jessica farewell and thanking them for taking care of him. Bobby leaves alongside Dean, and they drive close to each other the whole way back to their own little town. Bobby presses his horn a few times as a goodbye to Dean when he turns into a dirt road leading to his garage. Dean waves to the old man and drives back to his own home, going past the graveyard, not stopping to even look in its direction.


	16. Epilogue

A few years later, Dean has fallen into the habit of visiting the graveyard three times a year. Sam and Jessica's wedding and graduation have gone and passed, and they are now expecting their first child. Dean has found himself a girlfriend, a woman by the name of Tessa, who reminds him a lot of Castiel in many ways. She has the same dark hair as him and the same kind of expressive eyes. Tessa is the first person to make him happy since Castiel was taken from his life on that one summer day.

Each time Dean visits the graveyard, he takes three flowers with him: a lily for his mother, a daffodil for his dad, and an orchid for Castiel. Each time, he lays the orchid down carefully on the pedestal of the statue, pinning it down with a rock so it wont fly away because of the wind. He always lingers in front of Castiel's statue for a few minutes before walking off, sometimes laying a soft kiss on the statues cheek before leaving. 

Dean does his routine three times every year for the rest of his life. Even after finally marrying Tessa, he never stops laying a single orchid down for Castiel each time he visits the grave yard. He never plans anything for that day and he never skips a visit, even if he is sick. Dean always makes sure to visit the graveyard alone without his wife or the two children he and Tessa had later on, to allow him and Castiel some privacy, and he never, until the day he died gave up hope that he would see Castiel again one day.

 

Out of a special request from Sam, Jess, their children, Tessa and her and Dean's children, the church agrees to allow Dean to be buried underneath the angel statue. Dean's name and date of death is carved on the pedestal of the statue below the large cursive letters reading 'Castiel' which Dean had requested be carved onto the statue a few months after the angel left him. 

Dean's funeral is short and intimate, where only the closest family members are invited. Every attendee lays down a single orchid on the pedestal of the angel statue, pinning the flower with a small, ornate rock. Each person also buries some orchid seeds in the mud below the statue. Those orchids, out of which a few are ghost orchids, bloom brightly every summer for many, many years after Dean's death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't even with how terrible the end is. So cheesy and blah. I have no idea how to change it up though. Thankfully this is only the epilogue and it can be completely disregarded.
> 
> Anyway, feel free to comment with any and all criticism you have concerning the plot, character's, grammar, etc... I would much appreciate the criticism!
> 
> And if you read the entire story, good job and thank you for not quitting after the first chapter, which was shitty and boring, I know!


End file.
